#its why i like golden kamuy so much they have never once passed up the chance to draw a penis flopping and slapping around

[dirt-str1der]

This whole chapter with knives is still funny because in the finale he at least had pants but he was straight naked here. Like it was swinging , his millionth knife

[codedredalert]

no lead nor steel shall reach him so [Golden Kamuy, Ogata & Yuusaku] -- gen oneshot

Ogata character study || 1705 words

A good marksman could swear blind that he knew a good shot before his bullet left the barrel.

Ogata was a good shot. The moment he pulled the trigger on Yuusaku, he knew he'd made a mistake.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death, Ogata is messed up and regrets nothing, this is not a nice softe redemption story.

A/N: written for @narramin​ 

(On Ao3)

===/\===

.

      1.

Ogata knew the rumours.

Second Lieutenant Hanazawa Yuusaku is the eight virtues personified, they said. No wonder he was promoted so young. No wonder he had the honour of bearing the flag.

Perhaps Ogata knew the rumours best  because they were spoken carefully around him— whispers like prey rustling the grass, catching his attention whether he willed it or not.

He's  that Ogata's brother, they said. No, reliably came the disbelieving reply. Can't be, no way, you've got to be lying, is it true? It's true, the Second Lieutenant said so, though Ogata tries to keep it quiet. Ah, well it makes sense,  he's the bastard after all, isn't he? Hah, in more ways than one…

Sideways glances between himself and their vaunted officer, not nearly as discreet as the men of the 7th Division believed themselves to be.

Have you heard? asked First Lieutenant Tsurumi in a conspiratorial whisper when he had Ogata alone. They say the Second Lieutenant is very principled.

Yes, Ogata has heard.

Shall we see for ourselves? proposed the First Lieutenant, hand outstretched, an offer.

.

.

      一.

"Life is a long road."

Grandmother taught this to him in a voice that was light to mask the weight of wisdom in those heavy words. After Mother's death, Grandmother had never faltered in her duties though she grieved, going through the funeral proceedings with head held high, and seeing to Ogata's every need with reliability that Mother had never managed, though she had tried.

"The longer one's road grows, the more places to stumble, and for impurity to rest on the soul. With time, every person falls to the suffering of existence."

She used one of her wrinkled, gnarled hands to smooth back Ogata's clipped-short hair, soothing and pleasant.

"It is just the way life is," she said.

.

.

      2.

Ogata approached Yuusaku for the first time since the young officer had first called him brother, and the younger man lit up with such unadulterated delight that it sent a shudder of disgust down Ogata's spine.

He had to be faking. No one got that excited about a night out with their bastard half-brother. But as long as the Second Lieutenant wanted to play the good brother, that suited Ogata just fine.

Ogata led Yuusaku to the pleasure district, watching with amusement as the younger man's delight turned to discomfort, to embarrassment, to distress.

"Brother… I'm terribly sorry," he said, bowing. And he  sounded sorry too, as if it physically pained him to refuse Ogata's first tenuous offer of brotherhood. His sincerity grated, as did his refusal. In one move, Yuusaku had both undermined Ogata's objective, and plainly made the grave insult that— however much he claimed to want Ogata for an elder brother— Ogata's wants and ways were beneath him.

With the trap now useless, there was no choice but to let him go, and Yuusaku walked out of the establishment as free and upright as ever.

But Ogata could be patient. As the war went on— as the acrid gunpowder, piss, shit, and anguish seeped into them all— Yuusaku would stumble. Ogata just had to bide his time and try again, try better.

.

.

      二.

His mother was beautiful in death. She had hundreds of admirers from the peak of her career, and many a swooning painter had captured her likeness. A portrait of her had been gifted to them, and it smiled bright-eyed and gentle upon Ogata from the family altar as she never had in life.

"It doesn't look like her," he remarked, as he stood side by side with his grandmother and offered incense. He remembered his mother's back as she stood in the middle of a room for long stretches of time, silent and unmoving. Her profile, as she stared out the window, watching for a man who would never come.

The joss sticks burned down to ash, and Grandmother lifted her head from her prayers. She bowed and turned away, gesturing for him to follow. He followed suit.

"People see what they want to see," she said, once she had closed the door behind them. Grandmother was very different from Mother, in that way. She always paid attention to him, even if she was silent at first. He just had to be patient.

"Men wanted her beauty, so they took whichever parts of her they found beautiful and painted over all the other parts to suit their tastes. They did not know her character, the hardship she went through. The  geisha, the  maiko… they suffer greatly for their success. But it was our hope that she would have a good life, a better life than the one we could give her. Not..."

Heartache. Deep despair. The delusion that roused her from bed only to make the same dish, day after day: a desperate, futile offering to a love that didn't realise.

Ogata understood.

.

.

      3.

"Superior Private Ogata. It appears that Yuusaku is a more gallant soldier than we imagined. He's won over the hearts of all the other men."

Ogata let out the breath he'd been holding for his shot and lowered his rifle. He could read between the lines and take the orders the First Lieutenant preferred not to say explicitly. Plausible deniability and all that. It's why the First Lieutenant liked him.

"So you're saying we're better off not killing him, sir?" asked Ogata, reloading and already looking for his next target. He didn't need an answer. "Understood."

Ogata led Yuusaku wraithlike over the fields where gunfire and screaming had reigned earlier that day. The night was quiet but far from silent, the sighing of the wind an unearthly substitute for the dead and dying soldiers' groans. Yuusaku's boots scuffed the earth as he followed. He made enough noise that Ogata could have shot him at fifty yards, blindfolded.

"I want to see you kill him," Ogata said earnestly, pressing his knife into Yuusaku's hands. Yuusaku flinched and his eyes slid away, looking for escape, looking anywhere but Ogata's eyes, anywhere but the Russian soldier gagged and bound at their feet.

"Father said I have to keep my hands clean," Yuusaku begged off, as if the word 'Father' could invoke more authority than 'Lieutenant General' or 'martial law'. Ah, but Yuusaku was a beloved child, Ogata remembered, and this was him trying to appeal to the filial respect that Ogata never had the chance to develop for the man.  

Something must have shown on Ogata's face.

Yuusaku embraced him and Ogata's blood swarmed like locusts in his veins, eating him alive with irritating discontent and a curious, persistent thought.

.

.

     三.

Mother's death was Ogata's first. A lot of customs went with it, though Ogata didn't really see why. When everything was over, Grandmother paid a priest to come bless the family and sprinkle salt at him.

"It's for your own good. Death is an unclean thing, we don't want its shadow over you," Grandmother explained when Ogata grumbled about some of it getting it into his eye. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, as she smoothed the front of her kimono. "Remember to do this after I've passed."

Ogata buried her the year he was conscripted. He didn't get the priest afterwards. There wasn't much point, on the way to a war.

.

.

      4.

It was so easy to find Yuusaku on the field, even in the chaos.

Gallant Yuusaku, leading the throng of soldiers eager to kill and die for the emperor and their nation. Ogata could frame them in his rifle sight like a painter drafting a standing screen. Yuusaku, marked by the rising sun.

It was so easy that it was a wonder how the enemy snipers hadn't gotten him first. The waving flag begged to be targeted. Did the Russians dismiss him for having no gun? For never drawing his unblooded sabre?

It was so easy to line up the shot.

What would happen if— ?

Ogata pulled the trigger.

.

.

      四.

Birds scattered as he missed, taking to the peach-pink sky above the fields behind the family house in Ibaraki. Ogata took aim for his second shot, but the timing was already so far off that there was no point. He lowered his grandfather's rifle instead of wasting another bullet.

He'd been over-eager, moving too much, and too fast. The light was gone now, and he would have to return home empty-handed.

.

.

      5.

Yuusuke's distant silhouette crumpled. His corpse joined the hundreds of bodies on the battlefield, lost in the chaos of the regiment as he went down, the bright white and red and gold tasselled flag falling slowly after him before it too disappeared from sight. Ogata lowered his rifle with a strange sense of frustration and ran his hand through his regulation cropped-short hair.

There was a strange absence of something he thought would be there, and with that... Disappointment. Profound disappointment. Like the shot when he was a child in the fields behind the family house in Ibaraki and learning to hunt, the birds scattering as he missed.

Yuusaku crowned by the sun, beloved.

He'd been overeager and now gallant Yuusaku would be forever gallant, forever pure. The impurity of death didn't seem to stick, and now Yuusaku was an immortal nuisance and Ogata still had no answer to the discontent crawling on his back.

Ogata's hand clenched on the butt of his rifle, white-knuckled with cold. This was the first time he felt  bad when he'd made his shot, bereft of something out of reach, which could have been his but never would. It was a pricking irritation similar to missing a shot. Even though he hadn't.

There were no answers here. There were no answers in the dead. Not in his mother, not in his grandmother, not in this man who called him brother.

Ogata turned and First Lieutenant Tsurumi was there. The First Lieutenant smiled in understanding and nodded in approval, as if knowing Ogata's thoughts before Ogata himself.

The father who only had enough love to raise one virtuous son. Yes, Ogata could just ask him directly. There was no point thinking about Yuusaku any longer.

Yuusaku was dead. That was the end of it. Ogata couldn't reach him anymore.

Time to turn to the living.

===/END\===

(On Ao3)  ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

[kurogabae]

As You Wish

@tsubasachroniclemonth --  Day 18 - Role Reversal

Spoilers for Tokyo. Ships - SyaoSaku; background KuroFai

Sakura was not a woman who felt powerless often. The last time she had felt as if the world and its events were spiraling out of her control and grasp she had been a child, clutching desperately to her mother’s corpse as her home and entire life burned to cinder and ash around her. After that day she had promised herself she would never be powerless again. Oh, how could she have known how wrong she would be?

Acid rain sprayed and hissed outside, slowly eating away at the newly exposed building, while inside Sakura’s world was falling apart much, much faster.

There was so much she didn’t understand, so many questions she needed answers to, but all of those things -- the man in the portal, Kurogane leaving them, this new Kurogane, why Syaoran had just let this happen to himself -- could all wait. Right now, she needed to find a way to help Syaoran, gasping and too pale and missing an eye. Tokyo’s medicine was limited and in short supply and Sakura had only one other person to turn to.

“Yuuko!” Mokona cried the moment her gem lit up. “Yuuko! Please help! Syaoran is- Syaoran’s going to-” she broke off into a sob and Sakura picked her up and cradled her close. Not even Mokona’s heart had been spared.

“Syaoran is going to die,” Yuuko said, and even her usually cool expression was tinged with poorly concealed grief for him.

“No!” Sakura demanded. She could feel the hot sting of tears in her eyes and furiously held them back. Now was not a time for tears, they could come later, when all was said and done and she knew exactly what she wept for. “There has to be a way to save him! Please!”

Yuuko’s eyes were soft and understanding in a way that made Sakura want to know who Yuuko had failed to save in her lifetime, even with all the power she had at her fingertips. “The price would be too high for you to make that wish,” Yuuko said and Sakura couldn’t accept that, even as she felt her heart begin to shatter. “But there is another way; Subaru, Kamui--”

“No,” came Syaoran’s weak voice. It was a pathetic sounding thing, hardly a whisper and raspy like dried reeds. “Don’t. I’m not worth the--”

“Be quiet!” Sakura snapped, her temper finally reaching its limit. She stood, hardly registering how she startled Mokona from her perch on her shoulder, and loomed over Syaoran’s prone form. “This is my choice to save you! It is my choice to pay whatever price is asked of me! If you wish to throw it all away then you will wait until I am done with you!”

Her words sounded cruel and harsh, even to herself, but she was hurt and scared and so, so tired. She had lost Kurogane, the boy who had become like a son to her, so brave and earnest. Sakura was not about to let Syaoran fall away from her as well, not like this, not if she could help it. She was selfish in doing this and if he was angry with her for it then so be it, but she loved him too much to continue living without him. Even if he hated her, at least he would be alive.

Something in Syaoran’s expression shifted and Sakura could practically taste it in the air. “As you wish.”

After that, it was all unnaturally simple.

Mixing of blood and the promise of water, payment, and answers. It was the tiniest bit convoluted, but Sakura followed the exchange just fine. Yuuko reassured her once more that this new Kurogane, identical in every way that she could see to the one who had been taken from them, could be trusted. Fai slept on through it all, the only saving grace in this nightmare. She knew he would wake soon enough, but the longer he could escape the pain of their situation the better.

Syaoran’s change was anything but easy.

It broke Sakura’s heart and churned her stomach to hear him scream like that, to hear his bones creak and watch his body twist and shake in pain. He clung to her, the force of his grip bruising her skin, his nails welling blood to the surface. She bore the pain without batting an eye. It was the least she could do. She held him as well, gentler, tried to make her touch comforting. She ran one hand through his blood and sweat soaked hair, tried to help him stay upright with her strength. If she could suffer this pain for him she would have.

It was over abruptly with a shuddering groan from Syaoran as he gazed up at her with a single, golden eye before collapsing onto the bed, asleep.

Subaru told her to let him rest, laid a hand on her shoulder and said that the worst had passed. She nodded silently and kept her comments to herself. She knew in her gut that the worst had yet to come, but Syaoran was alive, and if was a single victory amidst a string of painful failures. She would accept it gracefully.

There was still much to do and Sakura only strayed a handful of steps away from Syaoran at any given moment. She wished for water, she watched a treaty of sorts be reached with the people from the Tower, and she prepared to fight for the feather Fuuma held so easily in his hand when a voice called for it all to stop.

Fai was awake, and eyes that had reminded Sakura of summer skies were suddenly frozen lakes. Command straightened his back and drew attention to him without effort. He had awaken every bit the prince Sakura had been told he was born to be.

As she watched Fai ready to collect the price for the water there was a tiny voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to stop him, insist he stay where he was safe, that they had lost enough already, but she ignored it. She knew what helplessness felt like, what it felt like to need to do something, anything.

Above all else, she trusted Fai to come back alive.

“There’s no talking you out of this, I suppose,” she said, more for the small smile she got in response than anything else. “That’s okay. We’ll be here when you get back, so make sure you come back.”

Fai nodded and, before Sakura knew what was happening, threw himself at her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry. Please take care of yourself.” He released her and turned to Kurogane. The pair looked at each other without moving for a few seconds before Fai looked away. “Please get your wounds treated, I’m sorry I interfered with the battle and caused you more trouble.”

And then he was gone. Sakura watched until she could no longer see him. Kurogane watched for much longer.

She returned to Syaoran’s side and waited. Waited for Syaoran to wake up, waited for Fai to return, waited to wake up from this nightmare. Sakura hated waiting, but sometimes, it was the only thing that could be done.

[iceepsy]

Cauterize

Fire Emblem Fates Birthright AU: What if Birthright was a tragedy depicting Corrin’s mental downfall?

Chapter 1:  In The End

Thanks to @cup-ah-jho for betaing! I can’t thank you enough; you’ve been a great help. Notes: Birthright ending spoilers from the get-go.

In the end.

Kamui doesn’t know when time started to slow. Did it start when she plunged the Yato one final time into Garon’s flesh, feeling the resistance of the blade? From Garon’s last moan and glazed eyes, a telling sign that the war is finally over? If not, then it must have began when Azura collapsed behind her moments after, the short-lived victory quickly replaced with a chill that ran from the base of her neck to the tips of her exposed toes.

In the months, years, that Kamui has known Azura, she has never seen the dancer look so fragile and helpless. She drops the Yato at the sight of her companion’s leg, bloodied and twisted at an unnaturally painful angle, and the sword lands with a resounding clang that echoes much too loudly in the demolished throne room. Kamui follows suit, collapsing next to her sword and cradling Azura’s head as the other’s breath catches.

“Sorry, but it looks like I wasn’t able to keep my promise,” Azura whispers as she weakly places her hand over Kamui’s, rubbing circles with her thumb as she had often done before. The once comforting motion that helped Kamui through sweat-drenched nightmares now makes her dread its inevitable end. All Kamui wants to do is scream—“You liar! You promised to see this world peaceful once more! You promised a future with me!”—but something holds her voice back and knocks the breath from her lungs. The most she is able to let out are broken sentences and uncontrollable sobs that her best friend tries to placate. “Kamui, I’m happy, truly. Don’t forget...this is the peace you and I have dreamed of. Live your fullest.” Really, Kamui thinks bitterly, who is the one dying?

“Please,” Azura asks, as her golden eyes dim, “can I see you smile one last time?”

And Kamui tries, returning a lopsided smile that has never felt so forced. Having finally found her voice, she begs Azura, “I can’t lose you as well; I can’t lose anyone else.”

It was not supposed to turn out this way; she was not supposed to have lost so much. After all, hadn’t she chosen the right path like the heros from her childhood storybooks? They slayed evil monarchs, fought for the poor, and have never lost or mourned. So then why, if she thought she had followed them, did she lose her dear siblings and friends? She looks to Azura for an answer to her silent questions. However, her best friend has already closed her eyes, deaf to her thoughts, showing a faint smile despite her other marred features.

Kamui looks around again at the desolate room. The regal tapestries that depicted scenes of Nohrian court life have been stained with ash, forever tarnished. The decorative columns were shattered from careless fighting, causing pieces of the expansive ceiling to give way. Any treasures that the throne room once proudly displayed have been raided by less honorous royal guards. To think Kamui once saw this palace as inviting, as home. Xander’s and Elise's deaths still haunt her. She can still see Elise, once the light of her life, now lifeless. If Kamui didn’t know better, save for the blossoming red spreading on her sister’s chest, she would have thought Elise was sleeping peacefully, wearing the pale makeup common for court royals. Kamui is still in disbelief Xander died. She had always imagined his death to be in a grand battle that people would remember for centuries and not a battle with his weak sister. Xander still sits in the hall as if he is resting: a pitiful death.

Kamui shakily stands up, laughing at the ridiculous turn of events. She picks up the Yato, thrown carelessly near Azura, still dripping with Garon’s blood. She half wishes her adopted father’s blood was another color: black, green, or even blue, so that does not feel like she just killed another human. If Garon were a monster, her approach would have been justified. Nevertheless, Garon’s blood will soon be caked into the divine blade like all the others: like Iago, Hanz, and all the other Nohrians she’s killed.

-----

She can still hear Garon’s maniacal laughter as if this entire war had been his original plan. When she confronted him, Garon stared out at the crumbling walls that gave way to the town hovering overhead. “Foolish child,” he spoke in greeting, “is this the peace you have sought? Look long and hard at the destruction you have caused in your wake. Look back at Nohr and see the outcome of the path you have chosen.”

“Of course!” Kamui retaliated, “The only means of peace is by killing you! You caused this war! You planted that sword! You killed my mother!” She wanted to strangle him slowly, gouge out his eyes, and break a finger for each of the wrongdoings he caused to her and to Hoshido. Though, Kamui thinks bitterly that Garon would not have enough fingers.

She was ready to attack but Garon’s next words kept her rooted in place. The king of Nohr turned to her and whispered with poison dripping from his tongue, “Now come, child, you must think of the future for both countries. Nohr needs to be restored to its former glory. It’s only you who can fulfill that role, you know.” Kamui’s ears felt stuffed with cotton balls. Garon continued, “Xander secretly always wanted you to ascend the throne. Camilla does not have the strength to rule. When you left, she only wallowed in her room: a despondent bitch.”

The thought Garon proposed was ludicrous; Kamui had, of course, objected. Despite her verbal refusal, her mind continued to think. Xander had always treated her differently—his little princess. He had let her win. He had protected her. He had said that she could lead this world to peace.

“By default, the next in line is you. Dear Corrin, you should know you are still my precious daughter.”

His words were like a spell weaving and twisting across her body, petrifying her. She as Nohr’s ruler? He must be wrong; he’s the enemy. Even as Garon charged at Kamui, Bolverk above his head, she stayed rooted in spot. Only after the sudden movement of a spear cutting between her and Garon, distracting him, did Kamui dodge. She was quite surprised at his strength considering she had only ever seen him sitting on the throne; there was now a deep impression where he had struck.

Kamui gave Azura a grateful look as the dancer found her way next to her. The two flowed like water, swirling around Garon, dodging his attacks by a hair’s breadth. Azura sang her song, empowering Kamui to attack faster, cut deeper, and guard stronger. They were winning, Kamui thought happily. That is, until Garon surprised them both by parrying Kamui’s thrust with his axe while using his other hand to knock Azura to the side with a sickening crunch.

“Azura!” Kamui cries. To her relief, she heard Azura reply with a winded, “I’m okay.”

Kamui took advantage of Garon’s next wide swing by ducking underneath the blade and slashing his knees in retaliation. He fell to the ground. Despite the wound, he only looked agitated. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

This was maddening. Kamui screamed back, “You’re speaking in circles! Which is it? Why didn’t you?”

Garon stood shakily; Kamui half expecting him to pass out. To her surprise, he charged again, cutting into her shoulder before she could move. Kamui yelped and quickly stepped out of the way before he could cut through the limb. It was by sheer luck that he didn’t hit any vital tendons or ligaments; Sakura could heal it later. Kamui tested the Yato in her other grip, making due with her non-dominant hand as blood dripped from her useless arm.

With him so close, she lunged with all her strength, pierced the gaps of his armor, and sent the sword through his stomach. Her opponent let out a bloodcurdling scream, coughing blood onto her as he once again fell to his knees, “Because you - you could get to Mikoto.” Bolverk slipped from his grasp, barely cutting her toes. “Because this was a test. A test to see if you had what it took to rule the dark, grand country of Nohr. And my child,” his gaze bore into her eyes, “you passed.” Kamui twisted the Yato in further; her hands were slick with splattered red. Garon continued to cough, rasp, grate as she stepped back.

The former king of Nohr was smiling in death with what seemed to be the delirious murmurings of a dying man, “Ah, Arete, to be with you again...Perhaps all I wanted was the sweet release of death.”

Sakura’s worried voice piped up as Kamui, grasping her injured shoulder, moved away, “K-kamui, are-are you ok?!”

She looked up and saw her little sister in tears. Kamui tried so hard to smile because this was Sakura, her precious sister who should have never needed to see the war. She replied back, “Yeah - I’m am. It’s only a small injury.”

In addition to Sakura, Ryoma was standing protectively a few feet away but never chose to interfere. He understood it was her fight alone with Garon and it was only honorable to let her finish. Takumi was behind a pillar, a few feet away from Ryoma. He peeked towards her when he heard Garon collapse. His Fujin Yumi was set despite the cold shoulder he had always directed at her. Hinoka was standing next to poor Sakura, mirroring Ryoma. Kamui spoke louder, addressing them and their retainers, “It’s over. Hoshido has won the war.”

Sakura’s rod brushed Kamui, mending her injured shoulder with a cooling breeze. “Thanks, Sakura,” Kamui says before addressing the others, “It’s been a long battle, everyone go on ahead to rest and celebrate.”

“Wh-what about Azura?” Sakura asks.

“I should be well enough to help Azura.”

Sakura looked ready to protest until Hinoka chastised her, “It’s alright; remember that Kamui is a budding healer. She can help Azura and take her to you if anything else is more severe.” Hinoka waved as she started to leave, dragging the younger girl with her; Ryoma and Takumi followed suit. Kamui gave them a comforting smile. Things were alright, right?

Kamui saw the blue-haired girl out of the corner of her eye, carefully maneuvering past the rubble. She turned to greet her, to thank her for the help. That is, until she saw Azura collapse forward onto the ground.

-----

Kamui looks back to Sakura’s crying; she had once thought of it to be of relief. Sakura was staring at her bloodied clothes that no amount of washing could remove. The white of her uniform was stained with the blood of her’s, Azura’s, Garon’s and countless others. It’s proof of her victories. It’s proof of Nohr’s defeat. It’s proof that she didn’t bring peace, that she was the warbringer. And Kamui doesn’t know how to stop. Sakura wasn’t relieved; she was frightened at what her sister had become.

Kamui carries Azura to the entrance of the throne room where the others are waiting. How much of a failure could she be? She was unable to live up to Mikoto’s name; she could still see her dead mother shaking her head sadly yet again. Of course Mikoto would have found a way to peacefully unite the two countries. Her siblings had been so proud of her only a few moments ago; she doesn’t want to see the look of disgust when they realize she killed their adopted sister. Kamui could see it now: Ryoma’s distant eyes telling her that she’s a scam; she isn’t MIkoto’s daughter.

The others all cry when they see Azura hang lifelessly from Kamui’s arms. Ryoma is struggling to maintain composure while Hinoka and Sakura sob visibly. Even Takumi turns his head away. They say condolences to her, to each other, but Kamui is not paying attention anymore. She stumbles out of Castle Krakenburg in a half-dazed, dream-like state.

Kamui boards Hinoka’s pegasus and sees the city as Garon had described, void of residents. She sees the roaring fire, the falling roofs, and the breaking walls. She smells the sulfur, chlorine, and soot that permeates the air. Kamui thinks back to Garon’s words. No, Azura, we didn’t achieve peace. She doesn’t know how Nohr can ever recover as Hoshido continues to prosper. The Nohrians can only cower in fear as brigands raid while the new monarch attempts to bring about a semblance of stability. She didn’t fix anything; it’s nothing like what Mikoto would have wanted.

Kamui still can’t get rid of the thought even by the time they arrive back in Hoshido. Garon’s right; it’s her birthright to rule, like her mother, father, and step-father. She can’t take over Hoshido - she doesn’t want to as Ryoma is destined for the title. Ruling Nohr, on the other hand, could be her chance to let her siblings see she can truly bring peace, that she is worthy of being Mikoto’s daughter.

She knocks on the crown prince’s room late one night, sliding the screen door after she hears his muffled greeting. Kamui asks Ryoma about the surrendered country.

[recentanimenews]

Bookshelf Briefs 9/26/19

Black Clover, Vol. 17 | By Yuki Tabata | Viz Media – As predicted, friends are fighting friends in this one, as a good deal of the cast have been Possessed By Elves. Not Asta, of course; he’s our hero. But Yuno seems to be affected… except he proves to be the only one with the mental strength to throw it off. I’d roll my eyes at this if it weren’t Black Clover, a series that runs on clichés. Speaking of which, remember that nun from chapter one? The one Asta is theoretically still in love with? She returns here as the villains go after the orphanage, allowing Asta and Yuno to return and show off how much they’ve grown. Black Clover loves to run on things we’ve seen before, but this volume may have had a bit TOO much of that, as it was unsurprising. But still fun. – Sean Gaffney

Daytime Shooting Star, Vol. 2 | By Mika Yamamori | Viz Media – I will admit, this series is going to live or die on how far it takes the teacher student romance—I don’t THINK it’s endgame, but as with most shoujo it’s hard to make sure. (Shonen romances are nice enough to telegraph the winner in the first chapter.) It’s well-crafted, and the author seems to be aware of the issues it involves, but we shall see. Till then, I do enjoy the kids hanging out with each other, particularly when Suzume manages to be so sleepy during a study break that Yuyuya’s mask slips off and she starts berating her in front of everyone—though the masochistic guys she then starts to attract are less welcome. I enjoy the sense of humor and characters in this, despite some issues. – Sean Gaffney

Daytime Shooting Star, Vol. 2 | By Mika Yamamori | VIZ Media – Daytime Shooting Star continues to be far better than it seems like it’s going to be, with a student-teacher romance at its core. The important factor, of course, is that Suzune’s love for Shishio is unrequited, though he does finally become aware of it at the end of this volume. One thing I really love is that there’s drama—Suzune has made friends with Yuyuka (who has a subplot of her own in which she slips up and shows her true belligerent self and gains some masochistic devotees as a result) and is attempting to shield her from the knowledge that the boy Yuyuka likes (Mamura) instead likes Suzune—but no cartoonish, over-the-top villains. There’s just complicated circumstances and likable characters and it’s all really great. I hope it doesn’t spoil it all by doing something stupid like hooking up Suzune and Shishio, at least while she’s still a student. – Michelle Smith

Emanon, Vol. 2: Emanon Wanderer, Part One | By Shinji Kajio and Kenji Tsurata | Dark Horse Comics – This is two large short stories continuing the story of a young woman who has memories going back to the dawn of time. We get a better understanding of what happens when she moves from mother to daughter, and what happens to the mother—it’s disturbing and a bit terrifying, no surprises there. The current Emanon also has a twin brother, something that’s never happened before, and their reunion is as awkward as you can imagine. As for the first story, boy howdy that is a lot of nudity. It’s absolutely gorgeous—the art alone is worth buying this for. But boy howdy, that is an AWFUL lot of nudity. Interested to see where this goes next. – Sean Gaffney

Golden Kamuy, Vol. 11 | By Satoru Noda | Viz Media – This volume gives us the Golden Kamuy equivalent of Bonnie and Clyde in two lovers, now reunited after he gets out of prison, who love to make love and also love to kill people. Naturally, they run afoul of the 7th Division, but the action sequences are absolute gold. Meanwhile, Sugimoto and company are running into a new outlaw running around defiling animals. Biblically. If you’re the sort to be bothered by a two-page spread of a man screwing a deer… well, you likely stopped reading Golden Kamuy long ago, but I feel I should give the warning anyway. It’s also sort of hilarious, like a lot of Golden Kamuy‘s grossest moments. Even for a series that runs on pure “what the hell?” this volume was pretty bonkers. – Sean Gaffney

The Ideal Sponger Life, Vol. 3 | By Tsunehiko Watanabe and Neko Hinotsuki | Seven Seas – Even when our lead couple have successfully coupled, there’s still intrigue. Zenjiro NOT taking a second lover is proving to be, you’ll pardon me, a royal pain, and his pretense (which is somewhat true) that he’s so gaga over Aura that he can’t even look at another woman will only take him so far. Worse, once Aura’s pregnancy gets out, it turns out that Zenjiro’s ancestors may actually ALSO be from this world, which means trouble if the two magical powers combine in their child. Fortunately, our hero is also really good at contractual language, something we rarely see in an isekai. I’ll be honest, this is a LOT more interesting than I was ever expecting. I want more. – Sean Gaffney

Queen Bee, Vol. 1 | By Shizuru Seino | Kodansha Comics (digital only) – I read Seino’s Girl Got Game back in the day, but truth be told, I didn’t like it very much. Queen Bee is definitely an improvement, though I continue to not love Seino-sensei’s approach to zany comedy. (I just think too hard about where random chainsaws came from, for example.) Anyway, the premise here is that Mihane Hirata is an aggressive girl with a scary face who’s in love with the class prince, Toma. He thinks she’s interesting and wants to get to know her, but doesn’t want her for a girlfriend. What I didn’t like was all the background characters who keep popping up to comment about how hideous Mihane is, but what I do like is both Mihane’s self-loathing and Toma’s insistence that she should just be herself. If this were longer, I might pass, but as it’s complete in three volumes, I will probably finish reading it. – Michelle Smith

Uzaki-chan Wants to Hang Out!, Vol. 1 | By Take| Seven Seas – Given the titular heroine, all puns intended, and the fact that the book literally has a raised cover so you can see her boobs stick out, you would think this would in fact be pretty lewd. It’s not. Aside from one or two accidental gropes and a brief shot of Uzaki in the shower, this is not a title about boobs. What is it? Well, picture Teasing Master Takagi-san if she were actually bad at it. Uzaki really likes her sempai and wants to hang out with him all the time. He finds her overeager personality and ludicrous breasts to be rather exhausting, but doesn’t dislike her per se, so they do in fact hang out a lot. Slice-of-life then occurs. If you like that sort of manga, and can tolerate the breasts, this is worth a look. – Sean Gaffney

The Way of the Househusband, Vol. 1 | By Kousuke Oono | Viz Media – One of the manga debuts that I was most looking forward to this year was The Way of the Househusband. The premise is simple enough—a legendary yakuza boss known as The Immortal Dragon has left the underworld behind and now lives a his life as a stay-at-home spouse—but Oono’s execution is brilliant. The intensity, fervor, and complete earnestness of this former yakuza in his approach to household chores, shopping, and all the rest is magnificent to behold. I would certainly be interested in learning more about The Immortal Dragon’s wife and the story behind them settling down into marital bliss, but even if that is never more than hinted at, I expect The Way of the Househusband will continue to be immensely satisfying and ridiculous in the best sort of ways. I was not at all disappointed by the first volume and am eagerly awaiting future installments. – Ash Brown

The Way of the Househusband, Vol. 1 | By Kousuke Oono | VIZ Media – Tatsu used to be a revered yakuza known as “The Immortal Dragon,” but now he’s given up that life to pursue happy domesticity. Seldom has a series won my heart so quickly. It actually wasn’t the “cozy yakuza comedy” aspect, though that offers plenty of amusing scenarios, from Tatsu thoroughly intimidating an unscrupulous door-to-door salesman to drafting rival thugs to help him at a bargain sale to taking cooking lessons with a bunch of ladies to exclaiming “hot damn” over a great deal on cabbage. No, it was the cat, curiously sauntering into the background to survey the goings-on. The kitty has the best reactions (and some bonus chapters of his own). Tatsu’s career-woman/otaku wife Miku is great, too, and I look forward to the story of how they met. This short volume goes by swiftly, but it is quite the treat. – Michelle Smith

Why Shouldn’t a Detestable Demon Lord Fall in Love? Vol. 1 | By Nekomata Nuko and teffish| Sol Press – This book is like just eating pure sugar from the bag. For once the demon lord is the one summoned to another world. He’s fine with that, as a) everyone hated and misunderstood him in his own world, and b) his summoner is a hot young woman raising two cute orphan children. He’s nice. She’s nice. The kids are nice. Even the tsundere kid is really nice. There is an evil lord and his evil assistant, and they are the standard “I have no redeeming features” brand of evil, but you get the sense they were put in by editorial decree. The author just likes writing sweet married life scenes. I don’t know whether this deserves more volumes, but it was pretty good. – Sean Gaffney

Witch Hat Atelier, Vol. 3 | By Kamome Shirahama | Kodansha Comics – It’s titles like these that make you realize the sorts of things Harry Potter didn’t do. After resolving the cliffhanger of the previous volume, Coco continues to learn how to be a witch, helped by a young man in a potions workshop who can’t see colors, which makes it hard to, well, tell potions apart, as absentminded folks don’t really label them well. He’s a smart cookie, though, and shows her a shortcut that might help save her mother. Meanwhile, a lot of forces are making things more difficult for her—both actual antagonists, giving her secret powerful ink, or her own teacher, who may be more of a smiling villain than anything else. One of the best new titles this year. – Sean Gaffney

By: Ash Brown