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“Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” — Rumi ~ archive moodboard for @happyheidi ❀❁*:･ﾟ✧ ~

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Sana throwing her first pitch at the MLB Tokyo Series - 25.03.16

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2025年03月15日 location: そうる ✈️ とうきょう excerpt: "do you ever think of him when you look at me?" the answer, as usual, is never direct, never heavy – just a soft, wistful smile over the phone and the gentle words, "you have his nose." as if there is affection that still exists in something as simple as resemblance, as if longing could be held in the shape of a face.

every once in a while, yunaka will ask her mother, reiko, to share stories – how she met yunaka's father, the fleeting years they spent together when they were in university and that last summer when they said goodbye before they parted ways, her to osaka and him to tokyo. in the early morning of dawn, she chooses to ask again. while she watches the skyline from the vehicle's window, the quiet city barely awake, she listens closely. not just to the words, but to the subtle shifts in her mother’s voice and the way nostalgia lingers in the pauses between sentences.

reiko goes on her spiel, despite telling her she's being woken up for the most ridiculous reason. she speaks of late afternoons at the beach, where the ocean breeze carried their laughter, and of darkened cinemas where they whispered to each other between scenes, momentarily lost in a world that belonged only to them. she recalls autumn drives along winding roads painted in gold and crimson, the hum of the engine the only sound between them as they stole moments of normalcy without his guards. when he was with me, he wasn’t royalty – he was just makoto. just a man who loved her, free from the weight of duty and expectation.

"why are you asking so much about your father this morning?" reiko finally asks with a yawn, a hint of suspicion in her tone.

yunaka responds with a chuckle. "i'm seeing him later for dinner. it was white day last night. i don't know, i was just suddenly thinking of talking to you about when you two first met."

there is a reason, indeed – love is something that has flooded her thoughts in the past week, and she knows her mother senses this root of her curiosity. not allowing her to shift the focus, yunaka insists she shares more.

"i think a lot of people forget that love," reiko concludes instead, her voice wistful and low. "is also about absence – the presence of someone who is no longer there but still lingers in the smallest details." this leaves yunaka to wonder. her parents had parted ways before she was even born, a story that unraveled before it had the chance to hold her in its arms. and yet, the version where reiko and makoto loved each other lives in the spaces they both left behind.

she sees it in the way her mother’s eyes soften when autumn leaves begin to fall, as if the season itself carries echoes of the romance she once lived. she hears it in the quiet hum of an old song playing on the radio, the kind that makes her mother pause for just a second longer than usual. it lingers in the scent of sea breeze on their rare trips to the coast, in the way her mother runs her fingers through the sand, lost in a memory yunaka will never fully know.

"love isn’t always something that fades when lost, nana." it simply changes shape, settling into the quiet corners of a person’s heart, waiting to be felt in the simplest of moments.

"do you ever think of him when you look at me?" the answer, as usual, is never direct, never heavy – just a soft, wistful smile over the phone and the gentle words, "you have his nose." as if there is affection that still exists in something as simple as resemblance, as if longing could be held in the shape of a face.

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Pale, pearly limbs, and that silky hair,

Paul Valéry, from "Fragments of the Narcissus" in The Collected Works

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  nanako matsushima  in  RINGU ( 1998 ) .

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Hiroyuki Sanada as Hamura Takao in High School Teacher, 1993 ( Ep. 10: Our Failure)

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love as recognition

anna gavalda / friedrich nietzsche / clarice lispector / jandy nelson / rebecca perry / mhairi mcfarlane

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BLESSED BY VENUS, CRAFTED BY SATURN こまつざきゆなか 。

# VENUSIE ⸻ an independent musings blog for original character, 𝐊𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀. loosely based on emiko jean's tokyo dreaming. please read carrd and rules before interacting. primary activity is on twitter, open to writing paras on tumblr and discord, which is available upon request (serious writers only).

❝ TWITTER. CARRD. RULES. CONNECTIONS. JOURNAL. DOSSIER.

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2025年02月27日 location: ミラノ excerpt: "twenty-nine sounds like a big number, i kept telling everyone at work in the months and days leading up to today. it’s an age where i feel like i should no longer hide behind a careless air of naïveté, of being a “twenty-something year old trying to find her way around” to excuse me from the harsher consequences of life."

every year since turning eighteen, i write a letter to myself on my birthday. as i prepared to write my twenty-ninth birthday letter today, i found myself flipping back to the beginning of my annual birthday journal, courtesy of ママ. the first entry is dated october 29, 2013 from my mother – seven months before she encouraged me into this birthday letter-writing tradition. seven months before i left osaka to live in tokyo. it seems so long ago. it is so long ago.

twenty-nine sounds like a big number, i kept telling everyone at work in the months and days leading up to today. it’s an age where i feel like i should no longer hide behind a careless air of naïveté, of being a “twenty-something year old trying to find her way around” to excuse me from the harsher consequences of life. although technically, i am still a twenty-something year old, yet not so lost anymore in her footing. how wild. almost three decades around the sun, knowing exactly who i am. my age, when mentioned alongside my accomplishments, will no longer evoke reactions of amazement at how beyond my years i am, how wise, how impressive for someone so young!

and yet, as i turn back the pages to read the musings of my eighteen year old self, i realize something that i’d always felt but never knew how to put into words, but i’ll try to – it’s that i feel younger and carefree now at twenty-nine than i did at eighteen when i started this. let's take what i wrote in my first-ever birthday letter entry:

sometimes, i end up lying awake and wondering if my younger self would be proud of who i became, and the answer is usually cloudy. i was never the good student in class like suki who got straight a's. is that an indication to what i would become in the future? the fact that my younger self wouldn’t be proud of current me scares me a little…there is probably nothing more terrifying to me than waking up one day when it’s too late and regretting all the years i can’t have back. maybe instead of worrying about the length of my skirts, i should have worried about the length of my essays in english class. i also don't know what to do after college. do i stay in tokyo to be close to my dad? do i go back and return to my mom? why do i need to pick one over the other when others are spoiled in getting both?

i chuckle at this. in just those sentences i recognize a theme so consistently woven throughout all my journal entries from my late teens and into my early twenties, clouding over my experience of all those years – i was afraid of what my future looked like because i couldn’t picture what it would look on me. not to say i didn't want it, but moreso i was so clueless on where i would be.. on who would i be, on where i would be. is my future in osaka? is it in tokyo? little did i know that it would be in neither cities. i was also so eager to grow up.

at eighteen, i was limitless. i'd like to think i had the bright-eyed guilelessness of someone who thought that nothing could hurt her and that nothing mattered all that much. a lot of memories from when i first moved to tokyo aren't lost to me. i remember the feeling of tasting freedom for the first time, not having my mother to dote on me, relishing in my yearning of getting to know my father. specific details are few and far between, but all i remember was that time moved so slow and i couldn't wait to find out what and who i would be in the future.

all this to say, twenty-nine is a big number and i am definitely getting older. it seems like these days, one day just melts into the next. time is always moving so fast now. where did all these years go? the letter i write to myself on my birthday is usually addressed to me in the present – what i hope to accomplish, the experiences i want to have, plans for the year ahead. but this year, i want to write a letter to my past self too. i want her to know that some of her best years are still ahead, and that she's got a lot of time to figure out what she wants and which places she wants to go to.

i want her to know that things will eventually fall into place. that while seoul is a place she doesn't ever think to consider moving to, its felt as if everyday is a vacation since doing ao. and most of all, i want her to know that there's no need to pick between mom or dad, because at the end of the day, the both of them will choose her and keep choosing her over and over again. there are all these other things i want to say to her as i walk up behind her at the train platform, where she waits to go home after school. i will tap her on the shoulder and even though she doesn’t smile at first when she turns to me, i know she knows who i am.

今日は私の誕生日です。happy twenty-ninth birthday to me.

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dreamy 💚🧸

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2025年02月24日 mood: grateful

to be loved is truly to be seen and considered. i’m so thankful for friends who celebrate and appreciate me, not just today but everyday, and for the people in my life who loves me exactly how i need to be loved without me having to ask. truly, i’m so lucky 🍀

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heart strings.

makoto toshihito : father (npc) heart string tag. face claim: hiroyuki sanada

prince makotonomiya, known as makoto or mak in private, is the crown prince of japan and the heir presumptive to the japanese throne. as the eldest son and older brother to masahiro, he remains unmarried and is considered the most eligible bachelor in the country. the palace, along with high society, plays an active role in matchmaking with the most reputable candidates. perhaps it's due to his royal status but makoto struggles with expressing his emotions through words. so instead, he shows his love for yunaka through actions, acts of service, and thoughtful gift-giving. yunaka, being a natural talker, often takes the lead in communicating for both of them, bridging the gap where words fail him.

reiko komatsuzaki : mother (npc) heart string tag. face claim: nanako matsushima

a linguistics professor at the university of osaka, reiko has always been the sole provider for yunaka. deeply passionate about literature, art, and botany, she’s often mistaken for yunaka’s older sister due to her youthful, playful personality. their bond is incredibly close and tight-knit, most specially because yunaka is the only family reiko has, hence she cherishes keeping her near. though they’ve always shared a strong connection, their relationship deepened even further when yunaka finally learned the truth about her father. growing up, reiko had always told yunaka that he no longer existed, a vague explanation that led yunaka to believe he was dead.

ayoama daiki : ex-boyfriend of four years, from 2018-2022 (npc) heart string tag. face claim: kentaro sakaguchi

when they first met, daiki was a teaching assistant for japanese studies and asian languages at ewha womans university. with his guidance, yunaka quickly picked up korean. by 2022, daiki started talking about moving back to tokyo to pursue his dream of starting a family. despite his deep feelings for yunaka, he eventually ended the relationship, feeling there was a part of her she kept distant and guarded. daiki had even proposed to her, but she wasn’t ready to commit to marriage so soon. since then, they’ve had no contact, and the last yunaka heard, he was happily married and had relocated to tokyo.

matsumoto kenji (alias: timon) and watanabe ryu (alias: pumba) : full time body guards (npcs) heart string tag. face claims: sugino yosuke and takehara pistol

nana’s bodyguards have been with her since her freshman year of college, a precaution her father took after a shooting scare involving makoto’s younger brother in britain. timon is lean, sharp-eyed, and quick-witted, the strategist who keeps things light with teasing but never misses a detail. pumba, broad-shouldered and imposing, is quieter but just as perceptive, his presence alone enough to deter trouble. over the years, they’ve become more than just protectors. they're her constant, her reluctant confidants. they still call her simba, but now it’s more than just a code name; it’s a sign of the bond they’ve built through years of quiet loyalty and shared trust.

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di petsa's venus prayer headpiece

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I am not meant for casual love. I was born for soul consuming love and obsession.

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Hiroyuki Sanada in A man (photobook, 1992).

All photos were taken in Paris by Lyu Hanabusa.

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2025年01月28日 location: とうきょう excerpt: yunaka & her father, makoto, share a private moment in his greenhouse during her annual january trip to tokyo.

if there's one thing that yunaka is positively confidently in, it's the fact that she does not know anything about vehicles. she doesn't even know how to drive. okay, that's a lie, she doesn’t know how to drive that well. her mother taught her at the age of 18 in a time span of two weeks because mom broke her ankle badly and someone needed to be responsible for driving the both of them to and from school and work. it was right before her finals week of senior year high school, where cramming was at its peak and she found herself losing sleep over algebra and gears. her own mother, who probably knew her daughter needed to prioritize her maths, stood at the doorway of her room, nagging for her to get behind the wheel, screaming frantically when she finally did.

the afternoon is starting to feel very similar to those days back in osaka. in an empty cul-de-sac, yunaka watches as her dad hops out of the passenger seat of the keitora, eyeing the close curb that she has bumped into. in hindsight, she could have changed the tire herself, had it been a sedan. mini trucks are a different breed and she isn't familiar enough with the vehicle itself. she's learned though that serving is how her father looks after her: let me tell you when to start the engine again and just stay inside and keep warm. despite the suggestion of calling for help, he willingly does it for her just because he gets the privilege to do so.

it's funny. if someone told her that the man changing the flat tire on the side of the road is the crown prince of japan, she'd probably laugh and say no way. and yet here she is, watching intently as he pushes the spare wheel, his breathing labored as he works on the busted tire that is partially her fault.

just partially. are you always supposed to check your tires before driving a vehicle? why wasn’t that taught in driving school?

"you should learn these skills," he says after clearing the obstacle, situating himself to his seat with a big huff. he isn't scolding her, but not insisting either. she wonders when she'd ever be able to put the skill to use, considering that she has her guards driving her around when need be.

better yet, she wonders how he learned to change tires when he doesn't drive that often himself. he, too, had drivers when he studied college in the states. it isn't like he needed to drive himself ever. and even now — whenever would he need to roll up his sleeves and take the tools out for himself from the back of the car when he's got attendants at his beck and call for such matters?

she doesn't point this out. instead, she asks, "where are we going anyway?" they're headed for the greenhouse, this she knows. but the better question is, what is it that you urgently want to show me?

"pull over and you'll see." there's a playful glint in his eyes that she doesn't often see and it makes her warm, almost eager to bask in them. she doesn't get this time often with him, lunar new year is one of those holidays that they've come to celebrate, only because it's a free time he gets from the palace.

she follows him to a corner of the greenhouse that almost always changes. once it was a stand of peonies. and then a crop of seedlings. this year it's something different. something more permanent, with roots crawling to the ground and over to where she stands. immediately, she smells the sour-sweet scent of strawberries, some ripe and waiting to be picked. she looks at him in awe but he doesn't peel his gaze away from the fruit bearing tree. instead, he smiles and reaches out to collect one. its perfectly shaped and the color shines, enticing not only to the nose but to the eye. and then she remembers: are strawberries even in season?

he picks up on the gears that are turning in her head. "this tree bears 美人姫 every february. i got it for you." she freezes, looks at him quizzically and tilts her head. is this a gift from him? he confirms so. "this tree was handpicked from a farm in okuda farm and brought over right before the summer ended. it’s your birthday and i thought it a fitting gift. have you had them before?"

bijin-hime. a name fitting to give to his only daughter. beautiful princess.

once in passing, yunaka expressed how much she loves strawberries, and that she often got it when in season. now he tends to this tree like a fragile hope, as if it will mend all the years that they were not together.

she wonders whether he sees the bijin-hime as some different version of herself. one yet he has to get to know, one that he can hold in his arm; one that he can watch grow. she imagines he cares for it with a tenderness that she's never known while softly speaking to it, pouring out apologies or scrounging up whatever memories — through regrets — he can remember. maybe saying he is sorry for never being present in her life, despite the blame not being on him.

does he dream that this time, when he picks the strawberries, instead of being a stranger to its sweetness, it will burst forth in a familiar taste? a testament to his love? a chance for renewal? does he pick the fruit and see how full of life it is? does he remember how full of life she is? how much of a longing she craves for his presence, only to be kept as a secret?

he mentions the tree once more before she gets on the flight to see her mother: “when they fully grow at the end of the month, i hope you come over to pick them.”

she smiles, bows and so does he. they stand in front of each other, a little lost. does she embrace him? does he embrace her? they do neither of this, and instead she follows the attendant inside the private plane, her eyes searching for him on the platform where they bid their goodbyes. for the lack of contact, the warmth of his smile makes up for it. through the small window, she recognizes his smile to be the same as she sees in the mirror everyday.

sometime after her birthday, she keeps a promise to herself that she will return.