#its so strange to think about because yeah men as a class are so intentionally sinister when theyre in power

[miekasa]

worst tropes

men dating women in the same career/field as them an get silent/bitter because she's having a big moment/is more accomplished than him

men dating women in time-demanding careers and then are upset that their careers demand their time

men with podcasts

men dating independent/emotionally unavailable women and then are upset that they are independent/emotionally unavailable

men who can't drive

best tropes

friends to lovers

men who can drive

love on purpose, love that's intentional, love that's not rotten work because it's you

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Chapter 5

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases here.

← Previous || Index || Next →

“The Military School of Leidenschaftlich’s Army does not inquire people’s social ranks. The gates are open to all youths, and anyone at least fourteen years old can devote themselves to it regardless of their gender. National defense means protecting everything you love.”

Where had I seen a bulletin with these contents again? If I was certain, it had been in front of our business partner wholesale store, when I entered and exited it on an errand for my family. One particular sheet had been standing out on a board where the townsfolk stuck anything they felt like, from job hunts to searches for people. While biting into an apple that I had received from the store’s owner as recompense for the errand, my thirteen-year-old self had gazed at it intently. It was a good-quality paper rendered perfectly straight, firmly nailed by thumbtacks in all four corners. Pushed into the paper at the end of the text was a gold screw, as well as red sealing wax, bearing the emblem of Leidenschaftlich’s army.

As a child, I had thought that was a pretty cool life choice. How stupid. Even I would want to laugh at myself for being so naïve. Back then, I had not yet come to know the meaning of granting and taking away lives. Truth be told, once I tried becoming a soldier, reality ended up crushing many delusions of mine, but that’s a tale for later.

Let’s go back to my current story.

There were many reasons why I had decided that “yeah, I’ll become a soldier”. One was that I’m the second son of a merchant household, and since my older brother was the one who would take over the inheritances, I wasn’t needed there. Another one was that, as I had been raised in a big family, I wanted to hurry and become independent so that I could have my own space. Yet another was that the name my parents had given me was “Claudia”, which had made me think of wishing to become manly. Lastly, well... my older brother’s fiancée was a beautiful woman just my type, so I had wanted to keep a distance from her. The most important was that I desired to protect the family I loved but wanted to depart from, I guess.

The war had been progressively intensifying back then. A resources conflict between North and South. It was that one messy Continental War of a few years ago, where a religious confrontation between the West and the East became involved.

Leidenschaftlich was the continent’s southernmost extremity. If we had been attacked at that point, our defeat would have been certain and my family would likely have lost their lives. Because I was fond of my town and my people, and because I was fond of Leidenschaftlich, enlisting had been an inclination from my spontaneous feelings. The many things that had happened to me at the time boosted them... and so, I decided to become a soldier. I applied without telling my parents, and as for the entrance exam, I took it after lying that I was going to hang out with friends.

When a letter of acceptance was suddenly delivered by a postman to my home, my Pops beat the hell out of me. I hit him back, though. Pops was surprised at that. So was I. Like, “Pops is surprisingly weak”. During childhood, people think that their guardians are damn huge existences...

Yup. My parents had probably been worried. Choosing soldier as profession earns you a higher mortality rate than from leading a normal life.

In the Military School, all officers living inside the dorms was something enforced, so no one had a choice but let go of their parents. Still, I was stubborn, so I took a photo of my family with me as I left.

Two years after that, I guess, was when it happened. I met Gilbert.

   Gilbert Bougainvillea and Claudia Hodgins

   Do you know the true meaning of that flowering tree’s name?

They bloom every year. They’re planted all over the country as roadside trees, and when spring comes, lovely white buds sprout on them. When the petals fall, they form a pure-white carpet that never melts away. During that time, the colors of the city disappear like in a snowy country. People who go abroad have their mouths agape when coming back. You don’t see that sight anywhere else. No matter where I go, I remember that scenery whenever spring comes about. It’s like an extraordinarily fine woman that you get to spend only a single night with. If you listened to the music playing while the two of you were sleeping together, you’d remember her. Just like that, I’d reminisce to it. Whenever spring arrives, my memories summon the past along with the white of those flowers.

Gem-like emerald-green eyes hidden under a deeply burrowed military cap. Lifeless fingertips from pale hands that would not move after reaching out to the person walking away on him. Whispered words not conveyed.

I’d recall over and over again the Gilbert Bougainvillea of that time.

Gilbert... Gilbert Bougainvillea. Right, I started this story in order to talk about him. I spoke too much about myself. Let’s discuss him.

Bougainvillea, Bougainvillea. A clan named after a flower. If you live in this country and ask about the Bougainvillea family name, you’d know that it’s a famous family of military descent.

Didn’t you know? Statues and things like that of his ancestors are all over the city. After all, Leidenschaftlich has a history of having fought other nations that attacked and invaded it since the distant past. It’s easy for brilliant soldiers to be treated like legendary existences. It went to the point where it could be said that a soldier come from the Bougainvillea family was someone sure to take up employment. Even at present, this hasn’t changed.

He’s the young master of a well-off house. Actually, his bloodline is a high-class one. It also had matrimonial ties with the royal family of the monarchy period from before the country was administered by the military. The royal family is used as a symbol nowadays, though.

If times were better, he’s a person who we would not be allowed to talk about so casually. Yup, right on. This is why you exist now. They have that much power. Why I became friends with Gilbert, you ask?

It all began in early spring at the Military Service School of Leidenschaftlich.

The Military School was located near the national border. So that it could become a shield at the very front in case something happened, you see. The way it started from an all-seeing tower surrounded by a sturdy fort was just like a fortress city. If you went inside, you’d be sandwiched by narrow stone walls in a pathway that went on for long, and after passing through it, you’d finally be able to get out at the square. The city of Leiden was made like that too, right? If there was an attack, we’d defend it at the entrance, and then engage in confront at an open space.

Did you know that there’s a height limit to the buildings of Leiden? Most buildings were erected to the same height. But public institutions built inside the country were pretty big. Yup, that’s right. High-rise buildings were intentionally constructed in fixed intervals. For the sake of long-distance snipers. That’s the kind of country we live in. Hearing it that way, you might imagine it as some ostentatious building, but it’d turn into a beautiful thing when spring came. The roadside trees in our country will bud with white flowers every year, right? Yes, that kind. Strangely enough, its name is “bougainvillea”.

I don’t know why his household has that surname, but surely it’s got something to do with the fact that those vines were planted all over the country.

The completely white carpet that can be made out of those tiny flowers falling little by little is a gentle beauty. That sight is enough to be sometimes praised as the “residence of angel feathers”. Those vines surrounded the Military School in rows.

A few years after having enrolled into it, my hobby was going on idle strolls during that time of the year, so I was taking a walk. I got greeted by a passing freshman. “The place you’re about to enter is hell~,” I thought to myself while greeting back with a smile.

It was warm and pleasant under the lively sunlight, and just as it was about to melt the insides of my head, I found an eye-opening person. What kind of person was it? He was a beauty. Yep, he was... the kind of beauty that you don’t see around so often.

It was about as lengthy as yours. His long black hair formed a lenient curve and his eyes were a deep green. He had handsome facial features that gave off an androgynous impression, but the long limbs that he was gifted with and his well-trained body looked pretty cool in the white naval uniform he was dressed in. That’s what people would say. He was the kind of man that other men would fall for on sight, so to speak. That was the kind of person he was.

He was arguing with someone. As the two were side-by-side, I could soon tell they were siblings. The big discrepancy was that the boy who was presumably the younger brother was the one with a more awe-inspiring look. The two had not noticed that a passerby like me was walking their way.

It was weird for a guy wearing a naval uniform to be in front of the army’s Military School in the first place. They piqued my interest, so I couldn’t help standing there to eavesdrop. I could hear what they were talking about in bits.

“Brother, you’re selfish.”

“It’s for your sake; understand it, Gil.”

“Why do you never tell me anything?”

“Then cut off our ties as brothers.”

“All I ever do is say yes.”

When the younger brother said so, I got sad and felt like siding with him. I was at loss, so I stayed as a spectator.

After a while, the two stopped yelling at each other, and the older brother deliberately took off the military cap that the younger one was wearing, reached a hand toward his head and patted it messily. The younger brother was making a face that seemed like he was frustrated from the bottom of his heart. As if to hide that face, the older brother buried the cap deep onto the other’s head, turned his back to him and left. He didn’t even turn to look at the younger brother, who was probably crying.

I felt bad for the boy and tried to go talk to him. But when I saw him raising his lowered head, I stopped. He wasn’t crying. As if none of the emotions that were there until just then had ever existed, his expression became cold and he went through the gates of the Military School.

That was the first instant I saw Gilbert. I had never seen a boy make a face like that before, so I just continued staring at his back as if I had grown senile.

It became the topic that a son of the family of national heroes had enrolled as the top student among the freshmen that year. I had skipped the freshmen’s entrance ceremony and didn’t see anything, so I had no idea, but thinking back about it now, that was him.

Despite all of us being fellow students, we didn’t get to interact with each other if our school years were different. Even if we had joined training, it was impossible to make a distinction since it was just men. What caused the occasion for us to properly meet face-to-face was a small incident.

The ratio of enrollment in the Army Service School of Leidenschaftlich was of seven men to every three women. The women’s duties were normally of telegraph soldiers or replenishment troops, so our curriculums were different, and of course, our dorms were separate too. Our curriculum? Running, running, running. Building muscle. Firing guns, firing, firing, running, running, running. A repetition of that. The rest was classroom lectures. We’d learn how to form strategies, set up camps and use communication equipment. There were also the subjects learned at ordinary schools like normal. The girls had it easier than us, but it didn’t change that it was hard for everyone.

Guys and girls who devoted themselves to national defense day and night getting into relationships away from the eyes of our demon-like instructors was something, well, natural. After all, we didn’t have any other form of amusement. Romance was an amusement.

I’d also played around with countless people myself, but I never had a love that went as far as making my body burn. In that point, I’m sure I might’ve never had a true love. I never stuck to only one person. I like all women, so loving just one feels weird.

No biggie for me. Romance was a diversion anyhow. But diversions can cause some pretty dangerous stuff to follow you around. There were times when it was just pleasure for me but the other person was betting their life on it.

Maybe due to that attitude of mine being the one to blame, one of the girls I had fooled around with pushed a letter of challenge onto me. A letter of challenge. Do you know them? Letters with contents like, “I hate you very much”, “I’ll send you flying”, “Be here on X day of X month”. That’s right. There are letters like those in the world too.

It seemed she was going out with me with the intention of getting married. I had no idea. No, really. I didn’t even lay a hand on her, y’know? Did we ever go as far as kissing? I’m serious, I tell you. Kissing is a greeting to me.

“I’ve got no choice but to apologize wholeheartedly for this in my own way.” Just as I thought so, when I went to the place I had been called over to, there he was. Who?

Gilbert Bougainvillea.

That boy I had seen on the day of the entrance ceremony, standing fleetingly in the middle of those white flowers with his head hanging down, was there. From the very start, he had been piercing me with a scornful emerald-green gaze as I walked over. He was fourteen, I was sixteen.

“Are you Claudia Hodgins?” was the first thing he said. Just like his face, his voice was gallant.

At fourteen years of age, Gilbert somewhat gave off the feeling of a small adult. His black hair was settled down in a way that not a single thread would dishevel. He had dignified facial traits even though he was young. From his voice tone to his gestures, the man named Gilbert Bougainvillea was already pre-made. He had come from a family of soldiers, so from his point of view, maybe the Military School was just an extension of his home.

Surrounded by trees under the shadow of the school building, those training barracks were a place that didn’t have any popularity, but other than Gilbert, the girl who had sent me the letter of challenge and quite a number of onlookers were there too.

“Don’t say ‘Claudia’ ever again. If I get called by this name, it’ll turn into a chronic toothache for me. And you are…?”

“I’m Gilbert Bougainvillea. I’m your junior, but in this situation, I’m in a position equal to yours as her representative in the duel that she requested. Therefore, I will be omitting honorifics and protect her dignity as just a man. I shall be your opponent in her stead.”

He was a kid with way of talking that quite reeked of seriousness, I thought. I was also a child with not too big a difference in age from him, but if a fourteen-year-old boy talked like that, you’d be surprised, right? More than anything, I was surprised at that fateful chance meeting. I had only seen him for a moment, but the Gilbert of that time and that scenery of white flowering trees had stayed seared into my heart, and he was a person remarkable enough to make you remember him unintentionally out of the blue.

I beckoned him with a, “C’mere, c’mere” and whispered into his ear, “Gilbert – can I call you Gilbert? Why’s an underclassman like you getting involved in the fight between me and that girl? Are you her new boyfriend and got mad after she told you about me?”

“I don’t mind being called Gilbert. You’re wrong about that. I’m not her lover. I just happened to come across her when she was crying by coincidence, and after I heard about her circumstances, I was put in charge of representing her in the duel. I’m also not willing to fight an upperclassman... one that I don’t hold a personal grudge against, to boot... but I have no choice. If she will be at ease with this, I mean. It seems you’re a pretty terrible man.”

I looked at the girl who was the source of that comedy-rather-than-tragedy over Gilbert’s shoulder. I didn’t have any memory of our relationship being anything other than drinking tea together a number of times.

“What’d she say I’ve done to her?”

“The kind of indecent things that I can’t say aloud at all.”

I was so embarrassed at being called “indecent” by that boy that I couldn’t bear it.

“I didn’t do it; I definitely didn’t do it. There’re girls who’ve slept by my side, but I haven’t slept with that one. We’ve dated. But I haven’t laid a hand on her. I guess I’ve so much as kissed her on the cheek. But relatives do that too, right?”

“Then, why would she lie to me?”

“‘Cause she wants to catch my attention, doesn’t she?”

“And probably yours too,” I added in my mind.

“If she tried to catch your attention with ill intent, it wouldn’t be effective, would it?”

At that statement, I felt the cleverness of the young Gilbert, but at the same time, I thought he was a child who still didn’t know what the crudeness of the world was like.

“Gilbert, you’ve never gone out with a woman before, have you? There’re two paths that guys and girls broken by love go through most of the times: to get attached or to hate each other. When one hates the other, they try to push the other down both social and materially.”

“Even though it’s someone they fell for?”

“It’s exactly because it’s someone they fell for.”

Gilbert furrowed his brows, looking troubled, and then turned his back to me, saying he was going to properly ask the girl once again about her story. He was a serious guy.

I grabbed his arm and prevented him from doing it. “Listen, Gilbert-boy, this is a fight that you got involved in because of some boring sense of justice. Act out your role until the end. If you don’t, you won’t get to protect her dignity, right?”

“It’s not ‘boy’. Are you... okay with this? If what you said is true, you’d be accusing yourself of a wrongdoing that you didn’t commit and fighting for no reason. And it’d mean that I’m being lied to and used by her. Seems so foolish...”

“With all due respect, Young Master, but there’s a limit to how much of a goody-two-shoes you can be to accept being someone’s duel representative in itself, and I think it’s also a foolish action, y’know?”

“It seems I’ll have to shoot your words back at you as well and I’m sorry for that, but there’s no way anyone could not listen to a lady’s story if they saw her crying along the way... even if the result of it weren’t something good.”

Gilbert had whispered coldly with a bitter expression, but I mostly got a positive impression from that reply. He was a young man with a will that you’d rarely see in recent years.

I took the hand of the arm that I had been holding and forcefully shook it. Perhaps because I swung it too broadly, his body rocked along with the swaying of the handshake.

“I agree with that. What, so you’re an appreciator too? A women praiser?”

“I was merely educated like that by my parents.”

He was just a high-pedigree dog. I felt let down.

“That so? Well, it’s fine. Anyway, from your words just now, the points that our interests have in common became clear. What’s important here isn’t the face-saving of guys who got rounded up for a fight, but the feelings of a girl broken by love. She wants to feel better by giving me a blow, right? Why don’t we do that?”

“You’re saying you’ll lose on purpose?”

“I committed the sin of making a girl cry. I can do as much as let my face lie on the ground and get some mud on it.”

The shade of disdain in his eyes of a rare emerald-green color disappeared and I could see a bit of admiration sprout in them. “By the looks of it, I’ve misunderstood you. My deepest apologies for speaking impolitely to you, my senior.”

“No problem at all. We’re the ones who got you involved in the conflict.”

“It’s my first time in a duel like this and I don’t know how it goes, so it’d be helpful if you could tell me.”

“We can hit each other however we see fit and I’ll fall down after they watch us roll over, so twist my arm or something and end it there. I’ll act in a way that the onlookers will know it’s your win.”

“Speaking of which, do you know who those spectators are?”

“Gambling customers I called over. I’ll get twenty percent of the earnings from the leader of the gamblers, so it’s half of that for you and me.”

“I take back everything I said before. I’ll knock you down.” I didn’t understand very well why, but Gilbert started referring rudely to me and clearly ruined the mood.

Then, the gong of the fight resounded with a “clang, clang, clang”. Having grown tired of waiting for us since we wouldn’t stop talking, the boss of the gamblers played a battle-start tune with a pot and ladle. My relationship with Gilbert began originally from that fistfight.

“You’d better regret starting this stupid wager,” Gilbert cursed upon me, letting go of the stand-up collar of his school uniform’s jacket onto the ground.

We both measured a chance for the first blow. In contrast to me, who firmly kept my arms glued to my sides and balled my fists, Gilbert shook his arms as if adapting them.

——What? I’ve never seen this stance before.

Since my older brother and Pops used to throw fists with me and I to throw back by way of playing around, and since there was also a time when I would do nothing but get into fights in the city, that type of fistfight was part of my lifework. I was totally thinking that my opponent would come at me with Leidenschaftlich army-style martial arts. After all, he was the son of a family of soldiers. If you were to talk about martial arts learned by men who lived in Leiden, that was it. But Gilbert’s stance was different.

My principle in fights was to first observe the other’s attitude with non-aggressive defense. Following that principle, I waited for my opponent’s move. Yet it seemed that the same applied to Gilbert, so we just sluggishly watched each other’s battle preparation. When the audience jeered at us to “hurry and start beating each other”, I clicked my tongue.

The performance was important for the gambling. Left without a choice, I struck him with a big kick after drawing my leg to behind my back as a test. He dodged once. I hit his tight the second time, but he acted as if nothing had happened. The third time, he grabbed my foot and knocked me down face-up just like that. He dealt me a series of consecutive straight punches to the stomach after dropping onto me. It wasn’t a heavy attack, given that he was a boy who still weighted light, but it could make even my eight-pack abs scream.

It’d be boring if I lost in that way, right?

Taking advantage of my flexibility, which had a favorable reputation with the girls, I squeezed his neck with my legs and twisted him upturned to the side. He was light, you see. Being light also means being astute. He escaped from my leg technique smooth and quickly. We both stood back up to readying ourselves once again.

“Hodgins, don’t play around! We’re betting on you!”

“You two, don’t get injured because of me!”

“That’s the spot! Do it, do it, do it!”

The spectators were loud, but even as I heard them, it all only came in from one ear and left from the other. That was because my senses of sight, smell and many others were directed at Gilbert Bougainvillea.

Maybe having finished studying my way of fighting, Gilbert started actively hitting me. Of course, I also counter-attacked and hit him back. Nothing to be proud of, but my fists are heavy and they hurt. An attack where I socked with all of the weight in my body, which was a congregation of muscles that I had polished, would usually cause my opponents to collapse after I hit them three times, but I didn’t manage to settle it on him straight away.

Gilbert had converted his battle style into one of simultaneous offense and defense. I hit him. While Gilbert covered with one hand, he at the same time shoved his other fist into my stomach. It wasn’t just that his movements were agile. His fighting method was something you couldn’t manage unless you had trained a lot. To top it off, even though that guy was getting hit, he had a face like he wasn’t feeling a thing.

“Gilbert, where’d you learn that stuff?”

Gilbert sleekly avoided both my kick and my question, “Well, where was it again?”

——You really fourteen?

Just as those words had come up to my throat, Gilbert said, “Let’s end this already.”

Gilbert’s fists suddenly became heavy. Annoyingly enough, it seemed he had been holding back until then. He came aiming accurately for my body’s vitals with a calm expression – so dirty of him. I became defensive-only and eventually fell on my ass. Gilbert looked down at me from above with a face that said, “Now, lose just like you wanted”.

“Gilbert, you’d better review your attitude towards your elders.”

By then, I’d forgotten that I had to lose on purpose. I surrendered my body to the blood going up my head, raised it from my position of having collapsed onto the ground, placed my hands on the soil, and rammed his beautiful face hard with a lateral kick using as much strength as possible. That was my favorite stunt. A tactic I didn’t use for just anything.

The one who had rolled onto the ground now was Gilbert. I merrily mounted him and punched his body. Enveloped in a swirl of excitement, the onlookers rose in whispers. It was also a pleasure for me to hold down the guy that had been scorning at me until just a few seconds before.

No, wait a minute. Stop judging me with those big eyes of yours! This is the past. A story about the past! Yep, yep, listen closely to the continuation, ‘kay?

While I became absorbed with self-satisfaction and beat the crap out of Gilbert, with no regard for appearances, Gilbert grabbed a handful of dirt from nearby and smacked it into my eyes. It also got in my mouth. Tasted of earth. I spat it together with saliva.

“Bastard, that was unfair!”

“Tell that to yourself.”

Unexpected, quite unexpected. Apparently, he’d do anything to win. I thought he had seemed like a more scrupulous guy.

He pushed me aside and made an escape, and after taking a large distance, he swiftly did an approach run and came back my way. What I could see with my field of vision clouded by the dirt were the shoe soles of his military boots.

First of all, his right foot sent a blow to my chest, and as my body rotated midair, his left leg kicked for the second and third times, then his right leg attacked me again after I had rotated once. Having received three kicks in a row in the span of an instant, I collapsed onto my back.

——What kinda attack is this?!

Above thinking of it as terrifying, irritating or anything like that, I honestly thought it was “cool”. Nowadays, I know there are people of superhuman fighting races such as you and Benedict, so I wouldn’t be too shocked if I were shown a feat like that. But back then, it was impactful for me. Yeah, it was impactful.

Gilbert Bougainvillea was to me a new type of human being who had suddenly revealed himself. His rotational kicks hadn’t overwhelmed just my body. He took my heart too.

What we did after that? Beat each other muddily without paying any mind to the observers. Tired of waiting for the outcome of the match, everyone gradually left.

It seemed the girl who was the center of the whirlpool at that time had attempted playing tragic heroine at the beginning, but one of the onlookers came to talk to her midway, and she hit it off with him and vanished. The only ones watching in the end were a friend of mine who the head of the gamblers had trusted with the task and people with too much free time.

“Hey, when are they gonna settle it?”

We didn’t settle it.

At last, it was decided that we were at a tie and both of us were sent to the infirmary. Our fight was found out too, so the two of us had to take penal regulations on cordial terms with each other from our group of instructors. As to prioritize the medical treatment of our injuries, the disciplinary measures were the light punishment of ordering us clean up the bathrooms of every facility.

I had done something bad to him. It would’ve been fine if I had just lost right away, yet I got serious... Well, he’d gotten serious too, so it wasn’t just my fault in that point. No, I’m sorry. It was my fault.

In a way, I apologized, but Gilbert said with a look of disdain that he never again wanted to be involved with me when we were cleaning the bathrooms. There was no helping that, since his brilliant school history, which had been about to start from there, ended up being tainted by the fight that he had with a senior as soon as he enrolled. We were of different ages and had different personalities too. The truth was that we were supposed to be alienated from each other.

You’re here now because this didn’t happen.

   Ever since the fight had ended, I stalked Gilbert. Calling it “stalking” is heavy-handed, but thinking back about how I was at the time, no matter how you look at it, there’s no way of wording it other than that.

“Gilbert, I’ll treat you. See, as an apology for back then.”

“Not necessary.”

“You’re reserved with others, huh. We both took the same punishment, right? No need for formal language. You using that at this stage of the game makes me feel itchy. I’ll introduce you to a girl, then. What’s your type? And the breast size?”

“I’m begging you, don’t follow me.”

I’d invite him for meals despite his unwillingness, have him learn the taste of adulthood through alcohol that I had managed to get my hands on in secret, and occasionally bicker with him. I was also the one who taught him how to smoke. He didn’t know most of the general forms of amusement, so even when I taught him card games, the reactions he’d show were entertaining. Soon enough, the guys from my year that I hung out with started doting on him too.

Gilbert was the type that older people got attached to. But what I’m talking about is a different way of showing affection. I mean, he wasn’t affectionate. I guess the right way to put it is that he piqued my interest.

From the get-go, I had been so, so interested in him that I couldn’t help myself.

About that, the same could be said of you. I’m not hitting on you, though. Huhu, not hitting on you.

It was different from that... In retrospect, ours might’ve been a relationship where I did nothing but chase after him. He was kind of... a hard-to-figure person. Though he had a strong sense of justice, he was rather cold-blooded, and if he had a reason that compelled him to gain victory in a given situation even if through an unfair move, he’d do it just fine. He had a man-of-character side to him, but he was also self-interested and prideful. He had a charm that drew people to him, but he himself didn’t have much interest in others. He was a man who only ever thought about how he’d tread the pure-white path towards his own future that had been laid out to him.

I once asked what had been best out of the things that I taught him. “Smoking. It’s not bad as a means of exchanging information,” was what he said.

I found out why he had turned out like that later on. It feels awkward to tell you about this, but it’s an episode that can’t be left out if we’re talking about his past.

Gilbert Bougainvillea had a fiancée.

He told me that when I was about to graduate. At the time, we were in a state where the two of us hanging out with each other was something that looked extremely normal to the people around us.

What happened? Well, nothing. Just a repetition of the same stuff. I’d follow Gilbert around, tease him, give in most of the time, occasionally apologize to Gilbert... We became normal friends.

The instructions had told me severely, “Don’t pay mind to the Bougainvillea heir” and things like that, but I didn’t listen to them. Gilbert had also seemed to warn me with a “don’t get involved with me”, but I didn’t listen to him either. In that point, I wasn’t a good kid. I probably knew him better than his buddies of the same age as him did. That’s exactly why learning such new information when I was already going to graduate had been so shocking to me.

He came to talk to me during a recess day in the Military School. Said he had a favor to ask.

“I’m going to eat out with my fiancée right now... Can’t you come too? We’re in a slightly complicated situation, so I want to request the help of a third party.”

“I’ll go. Of course I’ll go. Hah? Speaking of which, you up and got a fiancée behind my back? Since when? ‘Since six years ago’? You—How old were you back then? ‘Ten’? Why didn’t you tell me?! Could it be you’ve been going on dates with her or something during the holidays without me knowing? You have? Gilbert, you bastard!” I followed him while saying stuff like that.

We properly took written permission to leave campus, making meticulous arrangements. Even though he had intended to take me along from the beginning, the part of earning consent was just like him.

The meeting spot was a small café located halfway the road from the Military School to Leiden. I’d also gone there sometimes to have tea. The shop had a nice feeling to it.

Well, we met her there. Skip. All right, next topic.

Eh? What kind of person was she, you ask? Hm~, I don’t wanna talk about that. If I were forced to say it, she gave off the feeling of a Young Mistress from a fine household. Didn’t seem like she went out... I really don’t want to talk about her. Why...? Because I feel Gilbert would definitely get mad at me.

As for why he had called me... just like he had said, they were in a slightly complicated situation.

At the beginning, the fiancée wasn’t Gilbert’s. There’s that older brother of his, and the brother was the one supposed to take over the family inheritances, but – who knows what he was thinking – he had enrolled into the navy’s Military School as practically a runaway. That even though the men of their family are set to join the army.

Since you’re an ex-soldier, you know about it, right? Though both are national defense organs, there’s this unseen ditch between the army and the navy. Like in the ratio of defense expenditures and stuff. It’s an adults’ problem.

Yeah. Looks like the Big Bro didn’t get along well with his family. I heard he had a spontaneous personality. With that, it was doubtlessly painful for him to have grown up in an authoritarian household. Thinking about it now, the man that had been with Gilbert when I first saw him had been that very brother. And the Big Bro had run away from home, so everything was pushed onto the ten-year-old Gilbert, because both his parents had decided he was going to be the family head and made Gilbert take over the fiancée too.

This is rude to both of them, but they gave off a feeling of keeping a distance from each other. Unlike his brother, Gilbert was the kind of guy who wouldn’t suffer if pressured to live as the role model of the Bougainvilleas... so everyone around him naturally chose to place their expectations on him instead of rectifying his brother. It seemed that Gilbert was also cherishing the fiancée, in his own Gilbert way. But the fiancée had a wish, and Gilbert decided to fulfill it.

Eloping. The thing that men and women would do to oppose the flow of the world and escape from their status in the social ladder to satisfy their love.

Not with Gilbert. You see, the fiancée... had tried to fall for Gilbert, but hadn’t managed to. And then she fell for another guy. A butler from her house, she had said. It was romance, after all.

Making him listen with ridiculous earnestness while his own fiancée confessed this to him and then going as far as requesting him to help her elope had been insensitive of her. But Gilbert had acknowledged it with a two-worded response and summoned me for an assistance plan.

When listening to the story, I wondered if he actually had the function called emotions running inside his body.

I wanted to scold his fiancée. Like, “You go do as you please on your own”, “Don’t get Gilbert involved”. But Gilbert started studying escape routes into other countries with shit-eating seriousness.

“The access from the border is monitored strictly. Hodgins, your home was a store that also deals with imported goods, right? Of course, it probably also has permission from the government to ship them. Couldn’t you have them mixed in and get them out of the country? If it’s possible, we could change the migration route to water transportation afterward... and avoid the conflict zones, no matter how much of a detour it is,” he said, dispassionate and business-like. “How much can you spend? It’s better for you to convert into money every possession that you can manage freely while there’s time. This or you can make wheat into products of your preference... That won’t be enough. It’s uncertain whether you’ll be able to set up a basis for your livelihood right away. I understand. I’ll provide aid too. No, this much is just... There’s the whole matter with my brother, after all.”

The more level-headed Gilbert remained, the more rage bubbled up and erupted inside me.

The conversation that had my help as prerequisite came to an end. On the way back, I asked Gilbert if he didn’t like her. If he didn’t feel even just a little bit of sadness or irritation at those circumstances – they had been engaged for several years, after all, no matter whether it was something that their parents had decided.

Gilbert, who had been walking silently, looked my way. The flowering trees that painted the roads white in early spring had lost their petals and were dyed green. Yet even though we were in a world with a different scenery, as expected, Gilbert was reflected in my eyes as a remarkably exceptional existence.

With the corners of his lips curling up just a little, Gilbert said, “The fact that there’s no meaning in chasing someone who’s departing has been drilled into my body with my brother’s case.” Again, he was aloof. His mouth moved as if being made to speak borrowed words. “I can’t say I don’t have empathy for her, but... if I were asked whether I have attachment, I don’t. That person wasn’t mine from the very start.”

“‘Yours’, you say... You...”

“Bad way of wording it, huh. It’s not like I’m referring to her as a property because she’s a woman or anything.”

“No, that’s not it... You...”

Aah, so this is it, I thought.

——Since it’s you, you’re always...

I felt for the first time right then that I’d come in contact with the essence of the person named Gilbert Bougainvillea.

——That’s why, even if you’re surrounded by a big number of people, you’re always...

That guy didn’t have a sense of attachment.

——No matter how much positivity you get or how praised you are...

It’s possible that his brother who had left was the one he had some sort of attachment towards. But even if it weren’t just that, he was surely...

——You look alone.

...a person who had gotten used to giving up on things. That’s why he treated all sorts of matters and people in a measured way. Even if his true intentions weren’t so.

“To begin with, we’ve caused trouble for their daughter thanks to my brother. Doing this much is nothing.”

——But where do your feelings go?

“Our parents will certainly have something to say about it, but mine will just match me with someone new to become my wife.”

——Aren’t you disturbed by having the person that will accompany you for the rest of your life decided for you like a board game piece?

“The eldest son of her household is the one who will take over the inheritances, so there’ll be no problem for them other than their reputation. If they can continue being related to us through my generation, it’ll be solved with that.”

No matter how much Gilbert talked in order to convince me, I never said, “That’s right”.

The one by my side was a young man still in his teens. He was a child who, as a result of being demanded reasonability, didn’t look for meaning in his own existence other than just as something “convenient” for people. He saw himself and others as nothing but assets.

“I was... happy that you had a fiancée, still. I did get pissed at you for hiding it from me, though.” For some reason, I was the one who’d gotten sad and my voice broke into falsetto because of suppressed tears. Gilbert asked what was wrong, but I deceived him by pretending to cough.

You know, I had... seen Gilbert’s future. No matter how much glory he achieved, or how long he walked through a brilliant path without deviating from it, there’d be hardly anything left in the palm of his hands. Throwing things and people away when he had no business with them and not caring if he himself were thrown away, he would merely continue treading the narrow, risky, pure-white path that had been laid out to him in a world of complete darkness. But he’d likely cross it in an extremely beautiful way, more skillfully than anyone.

What his hands were holding onto was already nothing but guns.

I’m a selfish person. Which is why I was simply sad at the truth that, even though I thought of Gilbert as my number one friend, it was probably not the same for him.

   Yeah, the eloping was a success.

I have no idea where those two are or what they’re doing now, but they trampled over my friend’s dignity, so I hope they’re happy. The aftermath was full of trouble, but the problem with the Bougainvillea heir’s fiancée running away soon wiped out.

Gilbert’s Old Man had died all of a sudden.

Just as we pushed the rude lovebirds into my family’s business truck and the two of us came back with nonchalant faces like, “My, my, it’s over”, an instructor called Gilbert to stop him, his facial expression altered.

“Where have you been? What were you doing? We were looking for you. He passed away. You didn’t make it to his last moments.”

The instructor must’ve been panicking too. He bombarded the stunned Gilbert with a hail of words mayhem. Gilbert did get agitated, but not confused. He’s the kind of guy who can cut off his emotions and do what he’s supposed to do. He said he understood and immediately went back to his home.

I wasn’t allowed to accompany him, leaving the campus only with permission to go to the funeral. My relatives were mostly healthy people, so my first time attending someone’s burial was the one of Gilbert’s Old Man. As I nervously went to it, there he was before me, performing the role of chief mourner with a grounded appearance... Gilbert, who had become the head of the Bougainvilleas in both name and substance, was discreetly clearing his throat.

“Why, if I knew this would happen, they wouldn’t have had to elope... Now that their main obstacle is gone, I could have pulled out of it... I’ve done that person wrong,” he said.

He called his father an “obstacle”.

That was surely because of the way Gilbert had been raised, as a “tool” of the Bougainvillea family who would give continuation to the household. He had been treated in a way so that he’d live as a strategic arrangement for the prosperity of the clan. It had swerved him. People give back what others do to them.

The closer you are to him, the better you understand. He’s a kind-hearted but lonely guy. Even though he’s got a cute face when he laughs, he hardly does so. He knows it’s not something suitable of his role.

I thought that when I... when I... died... either this, or if I ever disappeared from before him... the only thing I didn’t want was for him to treat me like an object. I couldn’t take it.

Whenever the dices of fate rolled in his emerald-green eyes, he didn’t see anything other than a windingly stretched future. He’d just earnestly stare at a path that wasn’t the one of a human being.

Was there ever gonna come a day that a man like him would chase after someone? Somebody – anyone would do. Someone, someone. A person that he wouldn’t be able not to be affectionate with.

Would he ever get to have that?

   Hodgins cut the words short at that point, reaching out his hand. His fingertips touched the hair of Violet, who was tucked in her bed. He slowly ripped off a thread that had become sticky due to sweat.

“Then, President Hodgins, after you graduated... when... did you reunite with that person?”

Upon being requested a continuation of the story with long wheezy breaths typical of those whose bronchi were suffering, Hodgins gave a strained smile. He stood up from the chair he had been sitting on, placing the blanked that stopped at Violet’s chest securely up to her neck. “Let’s continue this after you’re cured from your cold,” he whispered with utmost tenderness and a soft gaze. The ends of his statement overflowed with an affection similar to paternity.

They were inside a room large enough for two people to live in. It had light blue flowery wallpaper and a chandelier decorated with violas. On a round table sitting at the center of the room, there were boxes, bags and fruits baskets wrapped in ways that made clear they were get-well gifts. The interior of the bedroom was not too cold, yet wood burned in the fireplace, popping into sparks with a snap. The windows, which had its curtains closed, shook clatteringly due to the wind. The needles of the room’s clock pointed an hour just before evening.

“This surprises even me. I wonder if it is because I have distanced myself from the battlefields... To think I would grow this weak. My apologies for not managing to keep control of my health.”

“What’re you saying? The reason why you had a fever was that the difference in temperature got to you, right? The place you were commissioned to was a northernmost land, after all... Sorry for making you push yourself. Don’t mind it and go to sleep, ‘kay?” while speaking, he gently caressed the slightly dark circles under Violet’s blue eyes with his index finger. It was not as if they would disappear with that at all, but it was a display of his wish for them to do so. “We’re keeping in touch with the clients that booked you, and most of them want to rely on you even if you’re late, so there weren’t any cancellations to the requests. Don’t worry about anything and take your time, Little Violet. You look pretty tired.”

“I shall cure myself soon. By tomorrow even.”

“No can do, no can do. Take at least three days to rest from work counting with today. ‘Cause I’ll come over after these three days to decide whether or not you’ll be in condition to go back. Sorry for forbidding visits from the others.”

“No, it would be terrible if they caught this. President Hodgins, you too... My apologies for having you talk about so many things in addition to making you come here... I have caused you to stay too long.”

“I’m fine. If catching it would cure you, Little Violet, then I’d rather catch it. After all... I was something like your foster parent, though for a short while. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

At that response, Hodgins smiled with his whole face. “The book that Little Lux asked me to give you is in the brown package. I ended up seeing the contents, and turns out it’s a popular romance novel. If your eyes get tired, make sure to stop reading immediately.”

“Yes.”

“The rest is from the members of the company. Benedict told me to say ‘take care’. Cattleya’s scheduled to be back tomorrow, but even if she comes here on her own accord, you shouldn’t keep her company.”

“Yes.”

“Tell the people here at home if there’s anything you want me to do. I’ll leave work and rush over.”

“No, Lux would cry, so please do your job.”

Hodgins bid his farewells and attempted giving her a kiss on the cheek, but his lips were blocked by the palm of a hand burning with heat. As he asked with a sad voice if she did not want it, Violet replied that he could catch her cold, so it was dangerous.

Intentionally making a noise, he kissed the palm covering his lips. “G’night, Little Violet.”

“Good night, President Hodgins.”

Silently leaving the room, Hodgins walked through the broad corridor with a quick pace. On the way, he informed a passing servant of his intention to take his leave. His aspect of haste also showed after that in the way he drove his car.

Perhaps because the residence he had visited was located away from the capital Leiden, the Sun was about to set when he arrived to the city. The madder red sky was gradually starting to envelop itself in dark colors.

By the looks of it, today was a day of strong winds. Hodgins’s classic car swayed unsteadily during the fear-inspiring journey.

The place Hodgins headed to was a lodging facilities district in a place a little out of the townscape of Leidenschaftlich’s capital, Leiden. Inside it, there were not only the types of inn that one could stop by unexpectedly without reservations but also inns that one could not pass through the gates into the site unless an inviter let them. The kind of inn that he rang the bell of was exactly the latter.

The first floor was the entrance for the residents, as well as the level of employees who carried out the administration of everything. There were five floors above it. Despite the single-storied buildings being tall and three-floor ones being mainstream, the building could be considered quite a high-rise amongst them. Only contractors could live in each floor. It was a high-class one-floor-rent inn, where the bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens, etc. had all been designed in a luxurious fashion. Even just a one-night stay required quite a sum. Incidentally, the residents were chosen ones.

As he rang the bell of the top floor’s apartment, there were footsteps from the inside.

“Who might it be?”

Hodgins grinned at the well-mannered words. “It’s me. The little fox who saved you on that day.”

“I don’t have a fox for acquaintance.” The voice of the residence’s owner suddenly grew lower as he recognized the other person.

“Then, the one who threw fists with you in our first meeting on that day, Hodgins.”

“Wait there. I’ll open now.”

The chosen resident who opened the oak door with a gun at hand was a man past his twenties at the prime of his working life, as well as the head of a family that no one knew not of within Leidenschaftlich’s army. Despite it being the middle of the night, he was dressed in his military uniform. Only his collar was loose, unbuttoned at the neck. Perhaps due to him having no time to rest, his hair, usually combed down flatly over his forehead, lay disheveled and he had grown a stubble. He had also removed his eyepatch, displaying his lacerated eye.

“How’s Violet?”

Hodgins shrugged at the words said to him the instant their gazes met. “‘Hodgins, you’ve worked hard late into the night. Good evening.’ – Can’t you ask after you tell me that?”

“Hodgins, you’ve worked hard late into the night. Good evening... I’m exhausted.”

Unable to bear the look that said, “Just tell me the situation already”, he answered, “It’s just a cold. I told you not to worry, didn’t I? If you’re gonna visit her tomorrow, isn’t it useless getting a report from me?”

“I was concerned...”

Maybe because he had been reminiscing to the past, he felt that the current Gilbert had become quite amicable. To think that he, who used to be so prickly during his boyhood, now loved somebody. Hodgins bit down a laughter that suddenly came out of him.

“Hey, what was that? Why did you laugh?”

“I didn’t. By the way, it seems so expensive here... Did you finish paying for the place you were living in a while ago?”

“I’m renting it for a cheap price thanks to my household’s connections. I’m in the middle of looking for an apartment... so this is a temporary residence. I was... moving houses periodically so that Violet wouldn’t find me before, but the need for that is gone...”

After the train hijacking incident, Gilbert apologized to Hodgins and the Evergarden family, stopped hiding himself and continued interacting with Violet. The two were working things out with each other.

As one was a colonel of the army and one was a demanded Auto-Memories Doll, they had little time to meet. The moments and places where they could be alone with each other were valuable.

“Aah, no wonder you wouldn’t want to go back to the main residence where your honorable mother and sisters are.”

Gilbert nodded. “I don’t want to call her over there... Hodgins, you telling me about her situation directly has helped me out. Come in.”

He probably was truly tired. The words he uttered had frequent pauses.

Hodgins was let into the largest room. Perhaps because the lights inside said room were not properly lit, it was dark. Only a lamp sitting on a chest in a corner of the room illuminated the area around it.

“Don’t open the window. The papers will fly.”

The desk in front of the chair that Hodgins silently sat on had an awl, binding rope and piled-up documents. There were also other things, such as sealing wax, a fountain pen and stationery left half-written. A heap of letters tied with rope lay next to the stationary.

Showing a face of surprise, Hodgins quietly reached a hand toward the stationary. Gilbert had left him and gone to the kitchen. While reading the stationary, Hodgins asked with a placid expression, “Were you sleeping?”

The sound of a clock’s corkscrew ensued.

“Yeah, until just a bit ago. Hodgins, I’m going to make dinner, but will you eat it?”

“Huun, you were pretty worn-out, huh. It’s gonna be a feast. Gilbert, you gonna be having a drink while you cook?”

A sweet scent had suddenly drifted towards him.

“I’m not you... I’ll put it in the food.”

“So you do stuff like cooking.”

“I do it when my friend comes over at least.”

The eyes that had been reading stopped completely and Hodgins turned his head to the direction of the kitchen. Gilbert was not visible from that room.

“Liar. You’re simply hungry ‘cause you just woke up, aren’t you?” Hodgins spoke with a smile in his voice, yet he was by no means smiling.

“Then I’ll eat all this by myself.”

“Y’know, you’ve been calling me ‘friend’ out of the blue lately. What kinda service is that?”

“‘Lately’...? Is that so? But what other definition should I use? We’ve had this relationship for over a decade. Why is calling you my friend a service?”

The words smoothly replied to him pierced his chest.

“No, I mean, you... treat nice people like tools. You don’t show respect for me even though I’m older than you.”

“About the matters regarding Violet, I’m sorry. About not showing respect for you, why would I have to show respect due to age difference at this point?”

Silence.

“Hodgins?”

Despite being called, Hodgins wordlessly returned his gaze to the letter for a moment. It was his first time reading one of those, but Hodgins knew about them. After all, whenever Hodgins visited his room, there would be a sealed letter with no addressee somewhere. Hodgins knew one more person who used to accumulate letters without sending them.

“You’re an idiot.”

Just as Gilbert said, they had had that relationship for over a decade. They had also had a period of breaking contact. Within the letter that he was finally seeing again after those years, the feelings towards a certain girl that Gilbert had been unable to back from writing down were registered. He probably intended to throw away the old ones and hand over new responses. Written in them were his repeated apologies for what he had done until that point, as well as his words of gratitude thanking her for sending him countless letters.

Hodgins twisted his neck, observing Gilbert’s back as he stood in the kitchen. The same was valid for him, but Hodgins thought that both of them had aged quite some.

——To think that those two who had parted ways would meet again.

It was a common love story, which seemed like it could happen anywhere. But that was precisely why...

——...I think I want them to be happy enough to make up for their detours.

He and she. Both of them were irreplaceable people for Hodgins.

“Gilbert.”

“What?”

“Back to the topic... Y’know, I believe that friendships can also be unrequited.”

“Yeah.” Gilbert did not negate the exorbitant statement.

Hodgins felt he was giving an empty answer without actually listening to the talk. His feeling of discontentment accidentally seeped into his manner of speaking. “You say ‘yeah’, but do you really get it? I think you don’t... I’ve felt that way with you for many years. Gilbert, you can definitely make do without friends. But I’m not like that. Yet I really didn’t want us to be like... like this, with me being the only one... who wishes for you to stay that way, doing fine. Or who wants to see you every now and then to talk about trivial stuff. Like, ‘Is it just me who likes you?’... You’re a cold one, after all. That’s why I’ve been surprised with you lately. You... You probably don’t get these feelings of mine, though.”

Both knew of each other’s temperament and comprehended that their friendship existed. They also certainly trusted one another. The proof of it was that Gilbert entrusted Hodgins with the person he was currently attempting to protect by putting his life at stake. However, Hodgins nevertheless thought that, to Gilbert, he was not in the position that he had in mind. He had not once voiced it, for such attachments seemed foolish in male friendships.

After having said that, Hodgins soon regretted it. He regretted it, and yet...

“No, I understand. I don’t have any friends except for you.”

Perhaps because he had been holding the paper in his hands with force, it wrinkled a little. Hodgins desperately placed it on the desk and carefully stretched it. Still, he heard Gilbert’s footsteps approaching while he was at it and returned the letter to its previous spot.

The two remained silent once they faced each other.

Maybe finally having noticed the half-written letter, he mixed it together with his documents and quickly cleared it away from Hodgins’s eyes. Hodgins followed the letter’s trajectory from the corners of his eyes.

Upon sorting them out thoroughly, Gilbert exhaled a long breath that sounded like a sigh. “You said I probably didn’t get it, but even I understand,” little by little, his voice trailed off into silence. “You were always surrounded by a large number of companions. But you’re my only friend.”

——That’s a lie.

Even without companions that he had a relationship of associating himself with in the way he did with Hodgins, Gilbert was already a person who attracted those around him. He was not the type to act like a lone wolf. He would attend the class reunions and socialization banquets during their days in the Military School. He could flawlessly hold a conversation with anyone.

But before Hodgins was able to deny it with words, Gilbert spoke, “I have many acquaintances but you’re my only true friend. After you graduated... I thought it would’ve been great if I’d been born two years earlier for my student days.” His way of speaking seemed sulky.

The illusion of a fourteen-year-old boy overlapped with the figure of a battered man in his thirties. Hodgins felt that he himself had returned to when he was sixteen as well. Back then, he was always chasing after Gilbert and fooling around with him.

——We were always together.

The pain that had pierced his chest gradually tinged with warmth. A smile crept in his egoistic heart, unable to help itself.

——Gilbert, you...

The man named Gilbert Bougainvillea was not the kind to say such things at all. Over a long time, he had become able to show a side of himself other than being an “asset” that served for smoothly administrating himself and his surroundings.

——That side of you is unfair.

And strangely enough, the girl who Gilbert loved had also been a “tool” for his sake. Yet that “tool” was becoming able to gently undo the ropes firmly tied around her and show a humane face. Just who had been the one responsible for the biggest part of those achievements?

Claudia Hodgins, indifferent to his own deeds, merely rejoiced and smiled broadly at his friend’s bashful face. “Hu—Ahah, ahahahaha!”

“Hey, don’t laugh. You made me say something embarrassing. As if I’ll ever say that again in my life.”

“Ahahah, no... you’ve got it wrong. It’s not like I’m making fun of... Ah, Gilbert. Is the stuff you left in the oven okay? It’s kinda making a weird noise.”

“It’s not okay.”

Hodgins stood up and followed Gilbert as he clatteringly returned to the kitchen. A familiar quarrel flowed comfortably throughout the apartment, turning into a nightly tune.

And the same applied to time, no matter how much of it flowed. For two people who had a relation called friendship, it would go back to their bosom days regardless of there being a period where they had not seen each other.

“Move over, I’m gonna sprinkle the seasoning.”

“Fool, you’re mistaken, that’s not salt.”

“You’ve got no spices at all. D’you live off just salt and sugar?”

“I’ve had a long-standing habit of eating out. Hodgins, let’s stop it already. This isn’t food.”

“Don’t spout nonsense. There’s nothing that can’t be recovered.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so. Don’t give up.”

No matter how many hundreds, thousands of years they lived, the two would go back to the versions of themselves from that time.

To the fourteen-year-old Gilbert and the sixteen-year-old Hodgins.

[blehbleehhhh]

It Started in an Alleyway (ft. EreMika🖤)

idkwhatimdoingsometimes: "Eremika kissing in an alleyway to hide from people chasing them❤️❤️❤️❤️" It’s so funny to me that two of your requests were published back to back xD I swear I didn’t do that intentionally, just a happy coincidence. Anyway, this one is short, lol. Hope it's good and what you were looking for. Thanks for the request! ☺️ Not sure if I should put a trigger warning or not, but here it is anyway just in case.

"Sheesh, could you attract any more attention tonight?"

"Shut up." Mikasa rolls her eyes at her childhood best friend Eren and they exchange smiles as they both take a decent swig of their liquid courage. The pair decided to end what had been a very long week of classes with some drinks at one of the local campus bars and catch up. It had been three days since they've seen each other after all, which isn't that unusual, but something seems to be drawing them together more so than normal. "Nobody's even looking at me, Eren, you're just being overprotective again." She giggles at his lighthearted groan of annoyance and punches her fist into his shoulder, filling their little table area with his contagious laughter.

"Ow, what the hell?!" Eren smiles as he places a protective hand on his aching shoulder. "Yeah, well, I've caught those four scumbags back at the pool table checking you out dozens of times now."

"Should I feel flattered?"

"I mean, it does seem a bit excessive."

"Then I guess I'm offended."

"You're annoyingly fluid in sarcasm, you know that?"

"Yeah, when I'm with you."

"Oh, okay," Eren laughs and ignores the butterflies from her wide, toothy grin. "I see how it is."

"Meh, Eren, you're not my brother..." She chuckles as she takes a sip of her drink and nearly spits it out when he looks away with an obvious smile. Mikasa bursts into giggles as he looks to her and rolls his incredible eyes, swallowing the rest of his drink in two solid gulps.

"Mocking people is rude, Mikasa. Don't be a bully."

"Heh, oh come on! Don't be a party pooper, Eren!"

"I'll dump all over your party, okay?" The young twenty somethings laugh together as his eyes fall over her shoulder once more. There's just something incredibly off about these guys that have been checking her out, particularly the one who hasn't taken his eyes off her since she sat down. And she's definitely a stunner, there's no denying that. Hell, even Eren finds himself doing a double take whenever she's in the room. But still. He thinks to himself, immediately horrified when he notices that same guy is now standing up and walking over to their table despite clearly being at least five years her senior. Come on man, what are you, 30? It's disturbing how much more interested he is in getting to her than the young man standing up in protest who can definitely be threatening when he wants to be.

"I've been watching you from afar and I gotta say, I like what I see." The strange scumbag says to her and she looks up slowly from her drink, giving him the typical expression that her friend always sees when she's not at all interested in a conversation.

"And you are?" Mikasa raises an eyebrow as she looks away and casually stirs her drink with its straw.

"I'm more interested in who you are, baby girl."

"Hey," Eren growls. "That's not your baby girl and she clearly isn't interested. So why don’t you fuck off?”

"I think this pretty little thing can answer for herself." The guy says as he places his hand on her lower back, making Mikasa's expression immediately change to alarmed.

"Don't talk about her like that. Get your hands off her, you fucking creep!" Eren forces his chair away from the bar table and marches up to the stranger with his hands already in tight fists at his sides. He'll always fight for this woman, no matter what happens to him.

"What are you, her boyfriend?"

"No, can't I just protect a good friend?"

"Aw, nobody needs protecting here, right baby?" The stranger says as his hand wanders down her back and her cheeks flush bright red. But he didn't reach the intended destination because there was suddenly a powerful fist slamming into his jaw, and a decent crack. "Oh! You are gonna regret doing that!" The other three men by the pool table turn around and slowly start to close in, and it's only then that the two friends realize how much danger they're actually in.

Fuck.

"Run, Mika!" Eren grabs her by the hand and she drops her glass as they bolt out of the side door before more of that guy's friends could possibly show up. He turns his head briefly to look over his shoulder while they run as soon as he hears that door open once more. "Shiiiiiit!" They lace their fingers together for a tighter grip and sprint down the road until there's a choice between side streets, hoping that the bad guys would choose incorrectly. The pair run through puddles and Mikasa gets water in her flats as she's pulled down another long side street while horrible slurs are hollered at her from the group of guys her best friend picked a protective fight with. Once he was moderately satisfied that they weren't in immediate danger because the others seemed far enough behind them now, he decided to pull her on the opposite side of a tall dumpster. There's no way they'll see them standing here, especially with how dark it is in the alleyway. Mikasa leans her head around the corner of the dumpster when she hears a group of footsteps running passed the corridor and he panics, grabbing her by the upper arm to pull her backward. But he accidentally brought the girl right into his arms in just the perfect way so that her hands land on his chest and breaths mingle softly between their lips because they're that close. And yet neither of them could move, almost as if fate had brought the pair to this exact moment and there was a magnetic draw. Then it finally happened; he kissed her, and his lips lingered just long enough for her to quickly catch on. She leans into him slightly as she kisses him back and he wraps his arms around her waist. Eren carefully leans back against the brick wall behind him and they smile as they become more comfortable with this new act and kiss much faster. Suddenly, a group of footsteps could be heard running passed once more, but their only reaction was to deepen their kiss as not to make noise. Without a doubt it was those guys searching for the young man who just clocked their leader hard enough in the jaw to crack it. Eren pulls his lips away slightly and gently rests his forehead against hers. "Fuck it, you wanna go out?"

"Will you call me baby?"

"I'll call you whatever you want."

"Then yes," She chuckles to herself as she lovingly rubs the tip of her nose against his, making him laugh just loud enough for her to hear. "I thought you'd never ask." And when he tightened his hold around her waist, she bit her lip to fight her tipsy laughter from becoming too loud. Mikasa moans softly into his mouth as he crashes his lips to hers, more than happy to be making out with the only man that she has ever loved. She wraps her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss as he slides one hand up to the middle of her back and ensures that he keeps the other above her belt. At long last they're together, an official couple.

Who would have thought it would all start in an alleyway?

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 44: Three Stories

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Takiyo Aoyama Starts to Shine

When he had accepted the offer from Cellophane—the Number Fifty-Two Hero—Takiyo Aoyama hadn’t been certain of what to expect.  He was not close to most of his classmates, though he was probably closer to Akaya Koda than anyone.  And he maintained a—usually—cordial relationship with Kimiko Ojiro, due to a shared love of gossip.  He had even started speaking more with Isamu Haimawari, after seeing how hard he was working to prove himself, something he could understand.  But he could not claim to be close to Takuma Sero, despite sharing a floor with him in the dorms.

He had certainly spent time around the elder Sero; they’d all been around each other enough for that, but not in years.   So he had little basis to form his expectations on, save for the rather copious amounts of interviews and candid moments available on the internet.  These revealed only that he was personable, humble, and seemed to be rather behind the times in terms of slang.

That was… tolerable. Being able to cultivate a media presence was essential to being a Hero.  Many Heroes never rose very high in the rankings simply because, while they were effective in stopping Villains, they were patently unlikable.   There were exceptions, of course, but it was generally a truism.

He had failed to make much of himself at the Sports Festival, but perhaps he could begin to get the exposure he needed now.

Though he was beginning to wonder if exposure was worth… this.

To say Cellophane’s Agency was casual was putting it mildly.  All of the staff that worked there were in polos and khakis.  And as for Cellophane himself…  

“Yeah, I like to keep things casual when I first come in in the morning,” he said, leaning back in his desk chair.  His shirt was fashionable enough, well-tailored to accommodate his rather unique arms.  But as for the rest of him…  Sandals!  With socks!   Cargo shorts!  “Have a little coffee, catch up on e-mails and paperwork, then get set for a little bit of patrolling.”  He cracked his knuckles noisily.

The unfashionableness of this place was going to give him hives.  How could his papa not have warned him against this?

“You did good, kid,” Cellophane said, “but you’ve really got to learn to unclench.  I can see right now you’re about ready to have some kind of attack.  Don’t stress yourself so much.  Really, you’re reminding me of your dad, back before the whole cheese thing with Izuku. Why, I remember…”

The phone on his desk started ringing and he held up a finger.  He picked up the phone, “Hey, hon, what’s up?”

He went slightly flush as he listened to his wife.  “Yeah, sure, I can pick that up on my way home.  Yeah, that too.  And… sure… I can… do that… when I get…    Can we talk about this later?  When I don’t have a teenager in the room, listening?   Yeah, I know we talk about it in front of our kids, but they’re not a good barometer for that…”

Takiyo was rapidly wishing he’d gone anywhere else for this.

***

“Dump me, will she?” the Villain snarled.  He was large, larger than even Shoji or Koda, larger than All Might, and seemingly built out of black rocks, blazing red lines showing between the cracks.   “I’ll show her!  I’ll show that namby-pamby new boyfriend!  I’ll show everybody!”

He drew back his hand, like he was able to throw a ball, and when he launched it forward, he threw a hot blob of lava.  It struck a car, crashing through it, and melting what it did not smash.  People were screaming, people were running everywhere. If the target of his rage was actually in the crowd, Takiyo did not know.   Cellophane’s Sidekicks, whom Takiyo had not bothered to learn the names of (One had some kind of lubrication Quirk and the other did something with friction?  He really wasn’t paying attention.), were coordinating the evacuation of the area.  So far, all the Villain had done was property damage.  But the odds were increasing that someone, intentionally or not, would get hurt.

“…Well, he’s big,” Cellophane said.  “Maybe I should have left you behind.”

He pulled down the faceplate on his costume.  “Actually, think you could come up with a distraction?”

At that, Takiyo smiled and gave his cape a dramatic flourish.  “Getting eyes on me?  A piece of cake.”

“Good,” Cellophane said, firing off a line of tape and pulling himself with it.  “Just give me five minutes!”

Takiyo stepped into the Villain’s field of view.  “Bonjour, Monsieur Villian!” he said, letting loose a dazzling, strobing beam of light across his field of vision.  

The lava-man’s glowing eyes snapped in his direction, one hand up to shield them from further brilliance.  “Some kid?” he growled.  “That’s who they sent to stop me?  What’re you, twelve?!”

“Non!” he shouted, raising both hands.  He focused the stored light within him outward, raising his radiance until it was blinding.   “I am the one who is going to stop you!”  He flashed again, sending out another pulse of light.  “I am the Dazzling Hero: Radiance!”  Another flash.

“Argh!” The lava man took a step back, glowing eyes dimming and brightening in what must have been his version of blinking. “Damn kid!  You’re like some overgrown glowstick!  But I’ll put out your lights!”  He brought up both of his hands, gathering more lava there.

Fear gripped Takiyo’s heart.  He was going to die.  It was as simple as that.  Burned to a crisp, denied leaving even a beautiful corpse for the world to mourn over. He’d never be a Hero.  He’d never get the chance to make amends for what he’d done…

“STICKY STORM!”

Suddenly, the air was filled with long strands of tape, wrapping around the Villain until he was completely cocooned.  The lava he’d been forming fell to the ground it a heap, eating its way through the pavement, but at least it hadn’t come at him.   From above, Cellophane dropped down, then popped up the faceplate on his mask.  “Good job, kid!” he declared, giving a toothy grin and a thumbs up.  “You okay?  That looked pretty scary.  Didn’t think he’d get that angry like that.”

Takiyo had to wait until his heart started beating again before he could speak. “Fine,” he said, trying to project a confidence he did not feel.  “Only scary for a moment.  One more blast of light and he would have been taken care of.”

“Sure,” Cellophane said, though Takiyo was certain his lie was not believed.  Around them, people were starting to gather. Police, reporters, witnesses.  He put one arm around Takiyo and waved to the crowd with the other.  “Hero of the Hour, ladies and gentlemen!  My Intern!”

***

The picture on the front page of the paper the next day was… strange.  There was the wrapped lava Villain on the ground, there was Cellophane.  And where he should have been… was a vaguely person shaped bright blob.

Takiyo stared at it, mouth agape.

“Not bad, huh?” Cellophane asked.  “Not every day an Intern makes the paper on his first day.  

“I did not realize I do not photograph well,” Takiyo said.  “I did as a child.  My Quirk… it must be getting stronger.  Absorbing more light.  Even the camera flash.”

This was going to put a serious cramp in his plans for fame.

“Eh, relax,” Cellophane said, slurping his coffee.  “You’ll have plenty of photo-ops, I’m sure.  And, if you don’t, well, there’s always radio.”

Takiyo’s mouth opened and shut, but no sounds came out.  He really didn’t know what to say to that.

***

Daisuke Shoji Did Not Sign Up For This

“You idiots!”

Daisuke carefully set the weights he was lifting (roughly 1080 kilograms with each set of arms) down, before looking towards the doorway of the Real-Riot Agency’s gym.  Red Riot, Real Steel, and Shiro Monoma (somehow Red Riot’s intern, the way he was Real Steel’s) all paused in their workout to look as well.

“What,” the small woman said, looking like she was ready to kill the first person who said something stupid, “have I told you about agreeing to things without asking me?”

Red Riot looked a bit sheepish at the accusation.  “Kids, meet Shizuka Yamamoto, our Office Manager.”

“And the only reason you two haven’t done a lot more stupid things!” Yamamoto said, putting one hand on her hip and pointing at Red Riot with the other.  “Which one of you did this?  I need to know who to smack.”

“What’re you talking about?” Real Steel asked, squinting with confusion.  “We haven’t agreed to anythi… oh!  That!”

“Yes, that!”  She reached into her pocket and unfolded a flier. “Red Riot and Real Steel Home Exercise Videos: How to Get Hard!”

“Oh, yeah!’ Red Riot said, flashing a toothy grin.  “Isn’t it manly?”

“The video people thought it was a great name!” Real Steel added, giving an oddly similar shark-toothed grin.

Monoma shot Daisuke a glance.  “This might get bad real fast,” he said.  “If that happens, just run.”

He raised an eyebrow. The blond from 1-B had been unusually sullen since they’d both arrived at the Agency, lacking his usual arrogant sneer he had when dealing with members of Daisuke’s class.  Granted, Daisuke had very little to do with him even under the most ideal circumstances, but his limited experience suggested something was off here.  Surprising, really, considering he’d made it to the Tournament Round of the Festival, something Daisuke couldn’t say.  And yet here they both were, interning with the Heroes who shared the Number Ten spot.

“Yamamoto is incredibly frightening when she’s angry,” Monoma elaborated.  “I’ve spent enough time around the Tetsutetsus and Kirishima-Bakugos to know that.”

Yamamoto took a deep breath and Daisuke assumed she was probably counting down from ten.  She pinched the bridge of her nose.   “Do you two idiots remember the charity wrestling match you did?  When you went off script?  “The power of two hard men?”  It’s like you’re trying to make yourself look like idiots!  Do you know how much of a credibility problem it causes?  Every time?”

“But we are two hard men,” Red Riot said.

“The hardest!” Real Steel added.

Daisuke would later swear he hadn’t seen Yamamoto move, but in the blink of his eye, both Red Riot and Real Steel were on the ground, rubbing their cheeks like they’d been slapped. Yamamoto’s hair was slightly messed up, as though she’d been running the mind.  Did she have a speed Quirk?

“Do you know how much work I’m going to have to do to fix this, you idiots?!”

He felt Monoma give his arm a tug.  “We should run.”

Daisuke looked at him, then at the growing argument. While a Hero should always be ready to intervene when needed, he also made it a personal goal to stay out of other people’s drama.  Considering he lived on a floor with Sero, Sato, and Aoyama, that was frequently a challenge.

“Agreed,” he said.

***

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Daisuke said, as he unwrapped the first of the take-out sandwiches he’d ordered (he needed a lot of calories), “but are you all right?”

Monoma barely looked up from the soup he was (barely) eating, as the two of them sat in the Agency’s breakrooms.  “Mhm.”

Earlier, they’d joined Red Riot and Real Steel on a mutual patrol. The patrol itself had been easy enough. No trouble today, but Red Riot and Real Steel had both been experts at navigating rooftops.  With his Extendo-Arms, Daisuke could easily keep up. They didn’t have a lot of advice for him yet, but tomorrow promised some combat training, and both certainly had the muscle to help hone his fighting style.

While Monoma had more than been able to keep up with them (an impressive feat, considering his Quirk offered him no enhanced physicality), he had seem distracted and was quite jumpy every time Red Riot spoke to him.

“Look,” Daisuke said, “we’re not friends.  But we are in this together.  If you’re distracted out there, it doesn’t just put you at risk.”

That, at least, got Monoma to look up.  “I’m fine,” he growled.  “I’ll get my head back in the game.  Don’t worry about it.  Just having a bad day.”

That was fair enough, Daisuke supposed.  Monoma’s personal problems weren’t any of his business.  Maybe that was all there was to it.  He didn’t have the context to form a proper opinion.

Monoma returned to eating his soup, head down and avoiding Daisuke’s gaze. ���Like you’d understand anyway,” he said, under his breath.

Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear that.  It was little more than a whisper and Monoma hadn’t been looking at him when he’d said it. While his Quirk did nothing for his hearing, Daisuke had spent a lot of time with his dad learning how to listen. He did it without thinking now, always listening and paying attention to the sounds others might miss.

“Excuse me?” he said, narrowing his eyes.  “Care to repeat that?”  Daisuke considered himself pretty even tempered, but to just say something like that right in front of him was not something he could just let go.

Monoma’s head snapped up and he fixed Daisuke with a glare.   “…You really don’t know, do you?”

He shook his head. “Know what?”

The blond boy’s eyes widen. “You really don’t know.”

Daisuke stood up. “Stop talking in circles.  What don’t I know?”

“That you’ve been voted the hottest guy in 1-A.  Hell, you’ve been voted hottest guy in the entire damn first year Hero Course. Pretty much everyone who likes men is into you.” Monoma pushed his chair back from the table and stood.  “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know about this?”

At this, Daisuke had to sit down, grabbing his water bottle with his upper-right Extendo-Arm and bringing it to his lips.  He took a long drink before he answered, his other arms slumping.  “Really?  They’re all objectifying me?  Just like that?”

He knew, of course, that Mineta found him attractive.  That was hardly a surprise.  Her type was “has a pulse.”  He was even vaguely aware that Sero sometimes stared at him, though that seemed to have tapered off since he had started dating Iida.  And Tokoyami’s familiar Frog-Shadow was always far too happy to see him.

But all of them?  He knew he was in good shape, but he hardly thought he was so good looking at to be more highly regarded than any of the other boys in his year.

“At least according to Fukidashi,” Monoma said.  “Who’s an ardent follower of Ojiro’s webcast.  If anyone would know, it would be the two of them.  Ojiro’s actually got quite the well-developed analytic and observational skills… she just chooses poorly how to apply them.”

Daisuke just shook his head, closed his eyes, and let out a frustrated sigh. So he was being objectified.  By pretty much everyone.  Great.   “Nice job pivoting the conversation away from you, by the way,” he said.

Monoma let out a squeak. “Not my intention.  I wanted to shut it all down.”

He opened his eyes as a few details finished assembling themselves in his mind.  “Would your distraction have anything to do with Kirishima-Bakugo?  Is that why you’re so jumpy around Red Riot?”

“I… don’t have to answer that,” Monoma said.  His mouth slightly agape in surprise.  

Daisuke shrugged, a movement copied by all his arms.  “It’s not my business,” he said.  “It’s yours. But get your drama figured out.”

When Monoma had left the room, Daisuke pulled out his phone.  The lock screen showed himself, two of his three left arms around a girl with bright blue hair and dark glasses, a white cane held loosely in one hand. “Hottest boy in the Hero Course…? Emiko’s going to kill me.”  

***

Takuma Sero Gets the Money Shot

“Hey there viewers,” Takuma whispered into his phone.  The front facing camera view was a little bad, especially in the low light, but sometimes, sacrifices were made for fame.  “I’m out on Internship with Number Twenty-Seven Hero, Tsukuyomi.”

He adjusted the angle of his phone, to capture Tsukuyomi standing on the edge of the rooftop, peering out over the cityscape, his black cape fluttering in the night’s breeze, before returning it to a close-up of his own face.

“And remember, Kimiko Ojiro and Kenta Sato will be uploading their own video diaries of their Internships later!  Which you’ll get notifications of if you’re subscribed!”

He gave the camera his best grin.  “I gotta say, though, I don’t know about this, viewers.  Best offer I got, but he is a broooooder.  Not at all a fabulous ray of sunshine like me.  But if we’re lucky, you’ll get to see yours truly in action, viewers!  Maybe even a little Swing Cam!”

That was his name for when he affixed his phone to his chest, while swinging from spot to spot with his Acid Tape.  Like first-person roller coaster footage.  Very popular, especially with the adrenaline junkies.

“Oh, and if you’re watching this, Tensei,” he said, giving the camera another grin, a real one, not the stage one he used for his show, “miss you, babe.  Hope your Internship’s going good!  Air kiss!”  He punctuated that with some air kisses.

“Okay,” he went on, “so, tonight…”

Suddenly, something dark snatched his phone right out of his hands!  He turned to watch Dark Shadow flowing forth from Tsukuyomi, his phone in its hands.  “Hey!” Takuma cried out.  “That’s mine!”  He’d had just enough time to hit “post” before it had been torn from his fingers.

Tsukuyomi regarded him with a dark gaze, his beak pressed firmly together.  “There will be no phone use while on patrol,” he said.  

“Yeah!” Dark Shadow added, tossing the phone over the edge of the roof.  “No phones!”

Takuma watched it fall, feeling like his heart was falling with it.  True, everything on it was automatically backed up to wireless data storage.  And true, he’d been meaning to upgrade anyway (the newest model had a really great camera).  But it was the principle of the thing!

The bird-headed Hero recalled Dark Shadow back into himself, his gaze never wavering from Takuma. “Undisciplined, easily distracted, showboating.  All these and more are descriptions I could bestow upon you.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Takuma said, rolling his eyes.  Automatic reflex, he couldn’t help it.  He might be flunking English, but Sarcasm was a language he was much more fluent in.  

“Child, there are so many more words I could use.  Be thankful I chose to limit myself to those.  Your mother may have failed to instill proper discipline in you, but I will more than make up for it this week.”

“What are you talking about?” Takuma demanded, a hand to his chest in indignation.  How could he say he was undisciplined?  Didn’t he know how much effort it took to put together a regular web program?  With three different stars?  All while studying boring regular school subjects and learning to be a Hero?

“You and yours are a den of chaos,” Tsukuyomi said.  “I shall tame it.  And to do so, I have severed your material bonds.”

“But what about my followers?!” Takuma demanded.  If he had a week with no new content, he’d lose countless followers!  His hit count would be in the toilet!  He’d have almost no validation from people he’d never met!

And how was he supposed to talk to his boyfriend?  …If he told this story to anyone, he’d probably better put that concern first.

“They will survive without you, I suspect,” Tsukuyomi said.  “Whether or not you do is another matter entirely.”

“And Mom says you’re not funny.”

Tsukuyomi tilted his head to one side.  “Funny?”

“That was a joke, right? …Tell me that was a joke!”

***

Takuma had officially met his new favorite person.  His only regret was that he still hadn’t been able to replace his phone, because this really, really needed to be recorded for posterity.  This was literally the greatest blackmail material he’d ever been handed.

“Oh, yes,” the woman said. She’s introduced herself as Yuka, though her Pro-Hero name was Shadow-Dancer.   She was one of Tsukuyomi’s Sidekicks, though apparently she was just a few months out from starting her own Agency.  Her Quirk let her meld with darkness and then possess and animate inanimate objects in that darkness.  She was supposed to have been giving them an update on recent Villain activity in the prefecture.  But this was so much better.

“I’ve known Mister Bird since I was a little girl.  He actually helped me out when my Quirk first manifested.”

A mischievous grin crossed her face.  “I was a little afraid of him at first, but I got over it pretty quick.  Of course, he was wearing monkey ears at the time.  I think I even developed a little crush on him after that.”

Takuma felt his jaw drop. He pushed it back up with his hand. “Oh.  Oh.  Oh! Tell me there are pictures of this somewhere.”

She laughed.  “Probably in a box in my mom’s house somewhere.”

Tsukuyomi gave her a scowl. “Must you tell this story to everyone you meet?  I am trying to instill some sense of discipline in the boy and here you are, filling his head with nonsense.”

Yuka put a hand to her mouth, laughing behind it.  “So serious, Mister Bird.”

“And I have asked you to stop calling me that,” Tsukuyomi said.  His feathers ruffled in what Takuma knew from watching Tokoyami was a sure sign of embarrassment.  “For years now.”

“Sure, Mister Bird.”

“You do know I am your boss? Perhaps you should continue your actual presentation?”

“Oh, if you insist,” she told him.  But she gave Takuma a wink.  “Don’t worry. I’ve got lots more stories about Mister Bird.”

***

“Hey there, viewers!” he said, adjusting the angle on the camera, “I’m back!”  He was glad he’d been able to pick up a new model so quickly. Thank goodness for good insurance plans. Too bad it had taken until the third day of his Internship.

Mom was probably going to tear Tsukuyomi a new one when she found out he destroyed his old phone. Maybe if he was very, very lucky, he could actually get that on video.  That would generate a hell of a lot of hits.

It might upset Tokoyami though.  Which would be bad.  She was pretty much the Mom Friend of the entire class.

Maybe he wouldn’t then.

Still, he did have to be quiet about this.  He was supposed to be catching some sleep, bunked down in Tsukuyomi’s Agency.  One other Sidekick was “on duty”, sleeping away on the other side of the room, just in case there were any calls.  Not that he was getting much sleep to begin with.  Tsukuyomi preferred to operate at night, which left him trying to get his sleep during the day.

“And now with improved picture quality,” he added, “you can see my fabulous pinkness in higher definition than ever before.  But sorry, ladies, I just want to remind you I don’t swing that way.  And gentlemen… I’m off the market.  Still all yours, Tensei!”

He flashed the camera another winning grin.  “Seriously though, viewers, this Internship has been intense.  Tsukuyomi knows what he’s doing.  I mean, he is dedicated.  Takes down bad guys hard and fast.  And I am learning.  Got a couple cool new tricks I can’t wait to show off.  Guy really does care about people, behind all the brooding and intensity and brooding intensity and intense brooding”

Not the least of his new tricks was a whole new way to use his Acid Tape.  If he flicked his wrist just right, he could actually start wrapping the tape around his arms.  And if he changed the acidity vs. stickiness factor… he either had an Acid Punch or a Sticky Punch.  Both of which had a lot of usefulness.  Not to mention a whole lot of video potential!

The corners of his mouth dipped down.  “If I can get him to stop criticizing me, that is.  Seriously, dude destroyed my last phone.  Who does that?  And he accused me of being more concerned with my social media presence than being a Hero!  Can you believe that?

Anyway, that’s my update! Don’t forget to hit like and surprise, and leave some encouragement in the comments!”

[iwritethat]

UnreQUITed - Part 2

Request: Would you be willing to write a part two of "UnreQUITed"? If you're not too busy with other requests? I'd greatly appreciate it, thank you so much!

Could you please do a part two to unreQUITed? It was so good! ❤️

Part 2 requests in general tbh

A/N: Here it is and I doubt it’s what you all were expecting... 😭

>>>>——————————>

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~

Disappearing was probably the best decision you'd ever made, you'd returned to your roots - the heartless nature that made you once again assassin material. Although, you were not exactly in that line of work since you'd sworn off of killing for Dick Grayson long ago.

It wasn't that bad, with the amount of money you earn from gathering intel and obtaining certain items for your previous wealthy clientele, it was easy to maintain a luxurious lifestyle whilst on the run.

As expected, it would soon come to an end with the passing months but never did you imagine you'd be working a weapons merchant when it happened.

In your defence, you were there to retrieve the priceless stolen pistol of your client, one that had diamond encrusted detailing, used silver bullets and was the colour of silky ivory. As a result of its unique beauty, said arms dealer kept it on his person as a display of power - you were basically his right hand/resident charmer.

The meeting was interrupted when a set of crimson arrows soared through the air striking down his men with miraculous precision - however, due to your amplified reflexes you effortlessly caught the one targeting your heart. Not that you had one anymore.

Since the place was being raided anyway, you gave a tired sigh when knocking out your boss, his body falling to unconsciousness on the cold tile of the office whilst you apprehended the pistol. Just then, a henchmen flung through the door followed by his attacker who appeared to be wearing a red - oh no.

"(Y-y/n)?! You're alright and here?! Fuck I missed you!" This was weird, Jason immediately disarmed and embraced your confused form. The gesture was loving and kind, one that showed he truly did care and you almost felt guilty for not bidding adios to him personally.

"I- Jay I didn't..."

"And Hell nice suit/dress."

"Haha, do I look good?"

"You always look good. What are you doing here anyway - and why are you stealing my thunder?" The Red Hood crossed his arms expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"Ah, I'm working." A simple but honest statement on your part.

"Working - please tell me it's nothing bad I should worry about and fight you over? Also, that why you taking his gun?"

"Wow, don't you trust me Jason? I know I've been gone a while but I used to be your go to if I wasn't with your brother. Anyways, gotta go." You claimed, edging around him rather smoothly before disappearing into the night.

You weren't stupid, he was probably tracking you now because Jason hated losing people and he'd be damned if he let you vanish again. So later that night you sat casually atop a rooftop overlooking your city of the week in normal attire simply awaiting his arrival and moping about your awkward client. Your confederate had been travelling and now the new drop off point was freaking Gotham - it could be worse, it could be Blüdhaven.

A fleck of shimmering ambers filled your peripheral vision and displayed a smiling Kori and dangling Roy.

"(Y/n)! It's been so long dear friend."

"Wait?! This is (Y/n)?! The lackey that caught my arrow - damn Dick used to talk about you all the time. I can see why Jason mentioned you on a few occasions too." Roy cockily saluted in greeting once marvelling at who your actually were.

"Yeah yeah Harper you finally met (Y/n) (L/n), good for you. You knew I was coming huh?" Jason's voice mocked from behind you, accompanying his heavy footsteps.

"What a guess, I'm glad you've learnt something in my absence. Now how can I help you Outlaws?" Your response was sarcastic but playful.

"Actually I wanted you to join us, my answer is yes albeit late."

You clicked your tongue, and shook your head dismissively. "You didn't need me then Jason, so you don't need me now. Besides I'm better off on my own, if I run with you and Dick finds out we'll both be in trouble - only unlike you I can't be around him."

"At least come back to Gotham with me and catch up a bit? You didn't only leave your beloved Dickiebird behind y'know." Jason’s words were kind of a low blow but suited to the man they originated from.

"Okay, I owe you that." You punched the cocky anti hero in the shoulder and you had a meeting there anyway, 20% extra pay due to the change in location of your client.

~~~

Gotham City. It was strange being back to be honest and you had no intention of sticking around once you'd hit the drop off. The first thing on your checklist, as soon as you'd split from the Outlaws upon arrival, was meeting your client and returning his expensive lost artefact meanwhile attaining a large sum in your bank account. However, it seemed as one door closes, many more open thanks to the contacts your client has on hand. You weren’t the only renegade he knew and it seemed this job was most likely a set up judging by your clients chosen company.

"Ah, it's been a while (Y/n) (L/n)." That voice, it sent shivers down your spine, it was unmistakeable - one whose orders you mindlessly obliged by for many years until Dick saved you.

"It has. And I'd prefer it to be longer, good ridence." You didn't even bother turning to face him, hand waving in dismissal.

"What would your little birdie think of that behaviour? In fact I've heard you aren't fighting together anymore - what's a Nightwing without his heart hm? Now if you comply again, we won't have to find out will we?" The arrogant figure knew he'd struck a nerve as soon as you'd froze at the mention of a repressed ally. He had your high class skills hostage now, because even if you didn't love him, how could you let anyone lay a finger on Dick Grayson?

~~~

Clad in civilian attire, you propped yourself against the wall, a majority of your weight leaning on your back and foot kicked up on the bricks. Jason Todd emerged from the take away joint soon after, tossing a paper bag in your direction that shattered your dwelling on that recent but haunting memory. You gave him a questioning look once peering inside.

"How'd you know my favourite order?"

"Dick knew, I found out from him."

"Does he know?! That I'm here in Gotham? With you?"

"Nah, give me some credit doll."

"Don't call me that, anyway how've you been?" You began a nostalgic conversation, old memories and past experiences retold like a towns fable that kept you occupied until your food was tossed.

A melodious laugh escaped your lips, recalling one of your adventures.

"Miami was the best, this lovely woman tried- oh nooo..." As well as your speech, your body short circuited too when taking in the glimpse of raven hair and blue eyes, you'd have been fine if it wasn't so recognisable.

Jason suspiciously gazed in your line of sight and mentally facepalmed, he should've known that the Gods or Demons would've tried to bring you together again. Thankfully, Dick's attention was solely focused on Damian and before he could process what was happening you'd dragged Jason into the nearest alley and pinned him to the wall with a hand covering his mouth. Jason cocked a brow, removing your hand with a 'seriously?' look crossing his features but alas, your eyes were trained on his brother.

"Hey, relax. Focus on me instead or better yet getting out of this?"

"He's right there. I could go straight up and say hi, tell him that I've missed him... I could do that."

“I know, and in the interest of that promise you forced on me, the keeping you un-lovestruck one, you better forgive me for this.” The vigilante ensured your presence by wrapping his arms around your waist, closing the distance between you which now had your full attention since you couldn’t get away.

“Restraining me? Guess I should be thanking you huh.” You sighed hopelessly, cursing at Cupid for ever concocting his dysfunctional theory of love.

“Todd, thought we saw you run.” Damian called, his tone doubling as a warning. Of course the Wayne recognised you and wanted nothing more than to welcome you home but knew how you felt about Dick. It was best to leave matters for now instead attempting to delay his eldest sibling.

Internally you were freaking out, but you knew the youngest well enough to understand the hidden meaning - he was giving you time. He intentionally made an appearance before Dick could catch Jason, you didn’t have long but hopefully the shadowy uneven lighting of the alleyway would aid your concealment.

Hearing the fast approaching footsteps, you turned away from the alley entrance desperately praying that he wouldn’t recognise the back of your head as you shifted further into Jason’s touch. However, Jason was the quick thinking one, moving to capture your lips with his own, at first you were surprised but melted into it - people avoid PDA, it should encourage them to leave sooner.

“Damian, you could’ve waited you know. Huh hey I knew it was you Jay, and your partner...?” Dick Grayson, oh boy he was still amazing.

You clenched Jason’s leather jacket, palms sweating from the mere ripples of the lost tone as you pulled away from him. You’d hoped you’d forget his kind voice, the way it gently tugged at your heartstrings in a charming manner that always sped up your heartbeat, the way it sounded like a melody and was capable of reanimating the past memories you’d spent hearing it, how well it fitted into your life and fuelled your heart. As much as your love begged you, you couldn’t look at him and show your face or else he’d know instantaneously.

“Thanks for interrupting, whatcha want?” Jason casually stated, running a hand almost gingerly down your side.

“это личные дела, моя любовь. [[These are private matters my love.]]” Now the Russian accent was perfection and the language was fluent, convincing enough to be believable as you’d only learnt it in your absence meaning it was one less thing Dick could link to your identity. You certainly knew Richard could understand Russian, Jason too so when you felt him uncharacteristically melt, muscles relaxing and heart rate increasing upon hearing your last two words maybe he misheard?

“I’ll catch up with you both later but I’m on business right now.” Jason carefully informed them, sending a wink to his brothers signifying it was vigilante related and that was enough for them. With nods and goodbyes they were gone.

“My love? (Y/n), you learnt Russian?!” Jason asked breathlessly once they’d disappeared, however instead of being met with your usual blissful smile you were briskly removing sparkling tears.

You took a step back, trying to focus on anything else - a flare of disappointment sparked within you, you’d wholeheartedly believed you were over the mesmerising acrobat but that was easier to argue when not in his drawing presence as you’d recently learnt. Jason could only give you a sympathetic look as you built up your walls again, apparently weaker than you thought.

“They probably thought I was a Russian drug lord.” You forced laughter and a smug smile as the situation was amusing, but barely managing it through your silent sobs over Grayson.

“You’d make a good drug dealer.” The male in front of you automatically comforted, compliments always came easy with you no matter how distorted they were.

“Ahem, anyway thanks for the food but I should go back to my hotel. The quicker I leave Gotham the better.” It didn’t take long for you to fix yourself, saluting Jason who had offered to walk you back to your hotel.

The stroll provided time to say goodbye, as much as you weren’t expecting it he told you to keep in contact this time.

It was nice actually, to know they still cared about you even now and after your first disappearance. The thought put a warm flutter in the pit of your stomach, however that soon dispersed as you reached your bed. On it was a pristine box decorated with a matte black bow; one you hesitantly untied and begrudgingly opened.

The noir silk cascaded to the floor once you lay your eyes on its familiar contents, shades of the amber and black armor withholding your attention span. The suit was accompanied by a mocking note of your last encounter, the inscription ringing of that dark voice you never wanted to hear again as you read over it in your mind tenfold with blood pulsating at an unfathomable pace - it was like you could feel every cell throbbingly reject the so called ‘gift’. But after encountering him amidst the pistol exchange, the threat he’d made rang strong.

‘Welcome back, “моя любовь” was it? ~ Slade Wilson.’

[tsgnorthwestarkansas]

TSG Contributor Nicole Calhoun on Inclusion And What That Means Today

To put it mildly, 2020 has been rough. First we get hit with a global pandemic, and now we are forced-again-to get up close and personal with social injustices that are rampant in our communities and our country. Although I am of mixed heritage, I personally identify as a black woman. And with most people of color at this time in our country, things have been very rough emotionally and have forced me to examine our society, what’s going to help our society heal, and how I can personally make a difference. As with most things for me all roads lead back to yoga. I won’t bore you with why I fell in love with yoga, that’s not what this blog’s about, but I will say that the practice of yoga is so much more than stretching. It’s a practice of getting to know who you truly are inside and transforming into something greater.

In this country, the practice of yoga has traditionally been very white-washed. Yoga has been marketed, packaged, and sold as a fitness activity for white women of a certain socioeconomic background. Don’t believe me? Open the browser on your cell phone (after you read this blog of course!) and search Yoga. Tell me what you see. Do you see people of color? People of all body types? Men? The short answer is no. And that’s because of how yoga has been marketed to us since its inception in the United States. With that being said, it may not shock you that the number of yoga studios that I have practiced in (and I’ve been practicing for over 12 years) where I have actually felt comfortable and welcomed in, I can count on one hand. Normally what happens when I walk into a yoga studio that I have never been to before is a little less than welcoming. I will normally get a lot of stares, no one will speak to me, and whoever is checking in clients will normally have a look of surprise/shock on their face. This person will then normally change their demeanor when I approach the desk to one that walks the line between cool and downright rude. It wasn’t until I started talking to other yogis of color that I realized that I wasn’t the only one having this experience over, and over again. In my earlier days, I never really questioned why this was. I just accepted that this was the way things were in the world of Yoga. People are always going to be shocked to see a person of color so why should I let it bother me. After all, I was there to transform myself, not make friends with people who felt strange around me.

Fast forward about six or seven years. I had been practicing yoga religiously, had fallen head over heels in love with the practice, and decided that I wanted to become a teacher myself. So I went to a yoga studio that I loved in Texas for yoga teacher-training with a teacher that I loved. The training was amazing and I could not wait to get back to Fayetteville and apply for my first yoga teaching job. I had been practicing at the same yoga studio in Fayetteville for years. I had actually made friends there and felt like I had become a part of the studio. So naturally, I wanted to apply to teach at that studio. I taught a mock class to the current teaching roster as an interview, like most studios require. Of the seven yoga teachers that I taught, the feedback I received after teaching my class was extremely gracious and overall very good. After that interview I wasn’t hired on to teach a regular class, but was asked to substitute teach a few classes, which is also very normal in the yoga business. The classes that I subbed went very well and I got a lot of praise from clients at this yoga studio after my classes, along with questions of when I would have my regularly scheduled class at the studio. I was stoked! So I approached one of the owners of the studio and inquired if a class on the regular schedule would be a possibility. What happened next really shaped the person I am today and the yoga teacher I am today. I will never forget it and I remember it like it was yesterday....the owner of the studio told me – verbatim – that they would not be hiring me at the studio. She told me that no one liked me and I didn’t fit in with the current teachers or their studio. She also told me that she thought I was a show-off and was only there to make YOGA about myself, not the clients. I...was...devastated. I cried. A lot. And as a woman of color applying to teach at an all white yoga studio who has experienced “coolness” and micro-aggressions in almost every studio I’d ever been to, the phrase, ‘you’re not like us’ meant one thing. They don’t want you because you’re a black yoga teacher. This was the pinnacle of my feeling like an outsider who didn’t belong because I was a yogi of color.

After that, I pretty much gave up on teaching. I spent months licking my wounds as a yoga teacher and decided to start playing around with yoga on Instagram. A few months later another yoga studio owner called me up and asked if I would be interested in teaching at her studio. I was unsure at first, but eventually decided to give it a try. This woman – a white woman – is who I credit with helping me pick myself back up as a yoga teacher and carry on. At her studio, I found my chops as a yoga teacher. I found out who I am as a teacher and what specifically I want to offer as a yoga teacher-physical, emotional, and spiritual transformation via power yoga.

Power yoga is not for the faint of heart. Taught correctly, it’s a practice where your heart pounds, you sweat your butt off, and burn tons of calories all while gaining physical strength and flexibility. It’s a practice where you’re FORCED to face your true self as you are. You’re forced to examine your emotional strength, your courage, your commitment, and your grit as well as your fears and your anxieties. (Sounds awful, I know, but it’s LIFE CHANGING!)

And so I began teaching power yoga and eventually began teaching at another yoga studio in Northwest Arkansas. It was at this second yoga studio that I really started to sharpen my skills as a teacher and build a following in this area. I haven’t looked back since.

After teaching there for a couple of years, I’d gained a following online and in person and I thought to myself “now's the time to strike while the iron is hot and really make a difference in the yoga community of NWA.” And just like that, EYL was born. ĒLXR Yoga Lounge (EYL for short) opened its doors on November 14, 2018. Our mission: intentional creation of a space where EVERYONE feels welcomed at all times and everyone can experience the power of yoga, no matter their race, gender, or sexuality. Such spaces have to be INTENTIONALLY created. Otherwise, things default to the status quo of exclusion. If you asked most people what they think makes EYL successful, they would say it’s the music. Sure, most people love hip-hop music! It’s fun, but that’s not why. It’s the intentional and actual creation of a space where diversity is welcomed, encouraged, and honored.  No one will ever walk into the doors of EYL and experience what I have experienced at other yoga studios. Not on my watch. In addition to that, I’m going to teach you the practice of yoga and help you get in the best emotional, physical, and spiritual shape of your life!

If anything, the events of the last few weeks have shown us that the lack of diversity and ignorance about the racial structure of this country are real issues. Not only is it up to us as a society to educate ourselves over these issues, it’s up to us to help alleviate these issues. As a society, we have to acknowledge these issues, educate ourselves about these issues, teach our children about these issues, and put in work to actually solve these issues. Until these things happen, we cannot begin to heal as a society and move forward as a people. If you're a person of color, tell your stories. Educate everyone about your experiences and how they are REAL. If you're not a person of color, educate yourself on the issues, on the experiences of others and then step up to make a change. We MUST work together to stop the spread of hatred and ignorance. We must work together to heal. We must work together to progress. And oh yeah, do a little yoga along the way too.

Stay safe,

Nicole Calhoun, PhD, ERYT