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apriumjam · 5 years

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The Blind Nun

The Sacrifice Files

Case: The Blind Nun

This is a short story from the Satsuriku no Tenshi Fanbook.

Written by Makoto Sanada, translated by me.

At the deepest level of the building, the basement – there was an old woman.

●

The moment she awoke on B7, she instinctively realised that this was a place she had never been in before. Therefore, she shakily embarked on a quest to find the exit.

The old woman was a deeply religious nun, but both her eyes were pure white. She could see nothing. Despite this, the old woman, fervently believing in God, proceeded through the floor, moving by touching the walls. She had lived with these sightless eyes for a long time. All she could do was rely on sounds and the feeling of other presences around her.

Somehow, she was able to reach B6. The announcement that preceded her exit from the elevator was rather disquieting; however, thinking to herself “as God wills it…”, and filled with resolve, she decided to go forward.

●

On B6, she heard the sound of something violently being kicked around. Turning toward the noise, a young man stood there, wrapped in bandages and holding a scythe. The young man sneered as he brandished the scythe toward her.

But the woman couldn’t see the weapon. She wasn’t flustered in the slightest as she strained her ears and asked, “Is there anyone there?” for confirmation.

“…Ah?” The man made a slightly stupid expression as he stared at her.

“Oh, there really is someone else.” The woman was relieved that someone else was there. She happily continued to speak to the young man. For a moment, the man made a strange face, then suddenly realised that the woman could not see. With a click of his teeth, he lowered his scythe.

Then, with a passing remark of “boring”, he walked away.

The presence of the man disappeared completely.

The old woman thought to herself that, while she had realised that someone was there, she had not asked who he was. She came to the conclusion that she must have offended the man, and regretted her actions.

After a short while, the woman regained her energy and once again made her way to find a way out. She found another elevator. The elevator was already on, so she went to B5.

●

B5 smelled like a hospital, and was easier to walk in.

However, after a short while, she was unable to proceed. The wall she touched now was different from the others; it was colder and of a different thickness. She could not find a door.

As she stood there helplessly, a man with a voice different from the man previous spoke to her.

“That is a glass wall, so you can’t get through.”

“Oh, is that so?” the woman replied, turning around.

Standing there was a man in a white coat, like a doctor. The man let out a quiet chuckle as he drew nearer to the old woman.

However, the woman had no idea he was a doctor – since she couldn’t see. But, she could smell antiseptic from him, so she made a guess.

“Are you a patient at this hospital?”

“No, I’m more or less a doctor,” he replied, sounding slightly shocked.

The woman apologised for being mistaken.

The man said, “excuse me”, before touching the skin beneath the old woman’s eyes. It was as if he was checking her.

“Are you an ophthalmologist?” the old woman asked.

“No…but I still need to take a look at your eyes,” he said, before letting go of her.

Then, in a terribly cold voice, he said, “They’re already useless.”

The old woman was rather perplexed by his reaction. However, the man turned to the side and began to fiddle with some sort of machinery. With a click and a beep, the glass wall parted like a door.

“There you go, you can proceed now,” the man said. Despite her confusion, the old woman gave her thanks. However, the man responded as such –

“No, it would be quite troubling for you to stay here for so long…”

in a quite disinterested manner, and left.

The woman felt quite sorry, for she must have offended him somehow.

●

The woman was able to proceed to B4. The ground was scattered here and there with mounds of dirt, so it was quite difficult to walk. Shuffling forward with her hands outstretched, she was able to locate a smooth stone. She wondered if this was a cemetery. There were certainly many gravestones.

As she walked, she lost her footing, and fell. There was a hole in the ground. She attempted to climb out, but found that the dirt was strangely soft, and crumbled easily. She was unable to escape.

As she began to grow more and more concerned with her predicament, she suddenly heard a young boy’s voice calling out to her.

“That’s not your place, ma’am. Ah, everything’s all ruined. Hey, I have to fix it, so come on out.”

The boy grabbed her hand and pulled her out.

“I’m sorry,” the old woman apologised, straightening her back slightly.

“Hey, ma’am, what’s that cross you have there?” the boy asked. It seemed that he was curious whether she was simply a “believer”, or if she was someone employed by the church. The woman told him that she was a nun.

“What, so you really do belong to God,” he grumbled with a somehow twisted expression. “I feel like I can’t make people like you ‘mine’, so – I don’t need you.”

The woman, lost in thought, didn’t understand what he said.

But the boy continued, “I have to dig a lot of other holes for other people, so I’m kind of busy. I’ll be going now,” and told the old woman how to get to the elevator.

The woman thanked him, and continued on her way. As she walked, she wondered if she had been too forward with the boy, and worried that she had been inconsiderate of his feelings.

●

She arrived on B3; however, there appeared to be no way to go forward. There were iron bars in front of her. She continued wandering around the room, turning this way and that.

And then, she heard a loud gunshot.

It had been aimed at her back.

Though she hadn’t actually felt anything, she was assailed by a terrible sensation of dread. The lights in the room dimmed, and a spotlight centred upon her.

However, since her eyes were shut, she had no idea what had just occurred.

In order to try to calm herself, the woman began to pray to God.

“…It is as God wills it to be, and I shall endure this.”

Resisting her fear, she prayed earnestly, over and over.

And then, she heard a woman’s voice, sounding disinterested.

((Oh, no…people like you just ruin my mood. Even after I put that spotlight on you…the scene I want isn’t this beautiful. The raging, dramatic screams of ugly sinners really are much more exciting – this is so boring.))

As the old woman stood there in surprise, the iron bars opened for her.

“��Did you perhaps open this for me?” the old woman asked.

((I am the condemner,)) the woman replied. ((And this is a place where sinners come to reflect at their own sins -- not a place for someone like you, right?))

Feeling grateful, the old woman tells her about how she had insulted the men on B6 and B5, and dampened the mood of the boy on B4.

((Oh – you really are interesting…I would have liked to see his reaction,)) the woman said with a laugh.

And what she said next was something the old woman couldn’t hear. ((But your appeal…doesn’t fit this floor.))

And so, the old woman proceeded down the path that had been opened for her.

●

The next floor the old woman arrived on was B2. The sound of the organ playing soothed her slightly as she walked.

However, as she went further, she began to smell a strange scent, and felt as if something had changed about her. This was because she could, suddenly, clearly see the scenery around her, as if her eyes had begun to work again.

She was unable to hide her shock at having her field of vision restored, having been unable to see for many years. Deeply moved, she arrived at a church, trembling, and began to pray.

“What on earth is happening to me…?” she asked as she prayed.

“What do you think?” a deep, solemn, masculine voice asked her. Though the woman lifted her head to look – the man’s form was hazy and blurry, and she couldn’t make him out very well. It was a miracle that the scenery around her remained clear to her eyes.

But it was obvious why that would be the case. The sweet smell from earlier was the cause – it had made her to hallucinate, trapped in an illusion. It made her think that she could see.

“…Are you God?” The woman had no way of knowing this, and thus posed the man this question.

But he did not reply.

“I asked you what you think,” he retorted.

“I…have lived believing that everything is as God wills it. But, if God would do something so wonderful as this…as to grant me my eyes, I give Him thanks. I would follow Him anywhere, and lay down my life for Him.”

“Then, what if your eyesight now was nothing more than God’s whim? A falsehood, a deception? What would you do?”

The woman seemed troubled for a moment, but then closed her eyes as if having decided upon something. She began to pray to God again. And then, she replied in a calm voice:

“Even so, everything is as God wills it. He will show me the way, and I am grateful for it.”

All the man said in response was, “I see.”

When the woman lifted her head once more, the man was no longer there. And, just like always, she was unable to see.

While she was a bit disappointed and found this to be a shame, she was grateful for the miracle God had granted her, even if it was only for a moment.

After a while of praying, she began to look for the church’s exit. Along the way, she touched her hands to the stained glass window – and, remembering the beautiful windows she had seen just a short while ago – quickly moved away, not wishing to sully the lovely design. She touched the wall instead.

The real exit was there – but she did not realise it, and proceeded onward, following the wall. She found a bookshelf. When she touched one of the tomes, the shelf began to move – and revealed a slim hallway leading to an elevator.

She went forward. She got onto the elevator to B1. Though she had been close to the surface – she went to a place that would take her further away.

●

Arriving on B1, the woman felt more uncomfortable than she had ever felt before. The only thing she heard as she walked was the floorboards creaking. There was not a single other sound. And she couldn’t sense the presence of anyone else, either. And, unlike before, no one called out to speak to her.

Because there was no one who wished to confirm her presence, and no one to test her. Because there was no one there with an interest in who or what she was.

The old woman proceeded through that terrifyingly quiet space.

And then, suddenly, she heard a countless number of things flying through the air.

Before she could react, something sharp pierced her back. She fell against the wall, unable to do anything but take short breaths. She didn’t understand what had just happened, but did her best to breathe despite the pain. She felt something slippery and hot flowing down her skin. And she finally understood that this was her own blood.

Somehow, she had been pierced by numerous arrows. It was as if she had been stitched to the wall, and she could no longer move.

She felt her consciousness slowly drifting away. And, the moment all she could hear were her faint breaths – small footsteps resounded through the space around her. Someone was walking down the stairs. There was someone else on this floor.

“…Who are you?”

The next thing she heard was a quiet, clear voice of a girl’s. It was a voice so devoid of emotion that it did not fit the ghastly scene.

The girl came a bit closer to the unresponsive old woman. However, the woman no longer wished for help. Because she knew that her life as at its end. She was simply worried about the girl. This place was dangerous –

“May God give you His divine protection…” the woman whispered on her last breath, praying for the girl’s safety.

But the girl did not understand the woman’s words. She simply tilted her head – with an expression truly devoid of emotion – and stared at the woman’s dead body with beautiful blue eyes.

If the woman had met the girl earlier, perhaps things would have been different. But, as God had willed it, what the woman encountered first was – a heartless, merciless trap.

And so, the blind old woman, more devout than anyone else, never learnt the true nature of the building – and never made it out.

#satsuriku no tenshi #satsuten #angels of death #rachel gardner #isaac foster #catherine ward #edward mason #abraham gray #daniel dickens #satsuriku no tenshi fanbook #mine

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courtingstars · 5 years

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Notes on The Vanishing Prince, Chapter Three

Yay, Chapter Three at last! I had more notes than I expected, probably because I was looking forward to writing all of these scenes for SO LONG.

This was a pretty self-indulgent chapter on my part, for a lot of reasons. XD But I hope it still included some enjoyable moments, for those who have been looking forward to Furihata and Akashi’s feelings for each other progressing!

So keep reading for notes about Reo’s tarot skills, Akashi’s reasoning about his emotions at this point, and Furihata’s bisexual ogling of BASICALLY EVERYONE. (I can’t lie, the idea of Furi literally staring at everyone around him trying to figure out if he thinks they’re hot or not was super funny to me? Which was probably obvious. //laughs)

(Cut for tarot stuff, notes about platonic vs. romantic feelings, and me rambling on and on about bisexual representation and how I’m way too emotionally invested in N700 trains…)

Mibuchi and Tarot Cards

Some readers might be wondering if I made up the idea of Reo (I always call him Reo even though I use his surname in fics, I can’t help it, he’s just Reo to me??) being able to read tarot cards. And the answer is, I did not! According to one of the canon fanbooks, Reo’s special talent is tarot card reading. Back when I started planning The Vanishing Prince, I knew basically nothing about tarot cards. But I thought it might be interesting if Reo’s hobby appeared in the fic, since there’s going to be a lot of supernatural stuff going on.

Then I randomly started learning a little bit about tarot cards last year. I decided to explore it further, partly to write this fic, and partly for other writing-related reasons. (And it turned into this whole bizarre slash amazing THING that I won’t go into here.)

But anyway, a little over a year ago, I actually did a real-life tarot reading for Akashi, just to see what came up… And weirdly enough (or not, according to people like Reo, haha), the cards I drew fit PERFECTLY with the plot of this fic! So for the reading in Chapter Three, I used the same cards I pulled that day. That’s also why it uses the classic Celtic Cross spread layout, because I was still learning the basics at the time.

(I also did a reading for Furihata on that same day… So did it fit with this fic too, and will it come up in a future chapter? We will see. //grins)

Needless to say, I’m still no expert on the tarot! But I did my best to show how the cards could apply to what’s been happening in the story. (And what may happen later as well…) I also tried to balance the more traditional meanings of the cards with Reo’s interpretation of what they could mean for Akashi. Many experienced tarot readers like to use their intuition and the images on the cards as a method to interpret a reading, rather than the traditional meanings alone.

Reo will be in this fic a lot, so I don’t want to say too much about my characterization of him just yet… But I’ve always thought of him as someone who is guided by intuition in many ways, based on his canonical skill with the tarot. So I felt that he would probably mix traditional card meanings with his own instincts as he saw fit.

Akashi’s Feelings and Platonic vs. Romantic

So given how attached Akashi (Oreshi) clearly is to Furihata at this point, I think a lot of readers might be wondering why he still thinks his feelings for Furihata are platonic? Which is… an excellent question. //laughs There’s a LOT going on behind that, which is going to be unpacked over the course of the story.

But this chapter does briefly mention a part of his reasoning, so I thought it was worth pointing out… At the end of Chapter Two, Oreshi mentioned his other self was ignoring a major reason why he still believes his feelings for Furihata are platonic. In this chapter, Akashi mentions that reason in a different context:

“Akashi was under the impression that romance was supposed to include certain urges, about wanting to kiss and touch the other person. Supposedly, it involved a form of physical desire that was intense, possibly even explicit… As far as he knew, Akashi had never experienced any of that.

“True, he was still young. But teenagers were supposed to want to kiss each other, at the very least. Weren’t they?”

I didn’t connect it directly, but this is what Oreshi also meant in Chapter Two. Basically, he’s under the impression that romance has to involve certain forms of physical desire. And he isn’t experiencing that toward anyone, as far as he knows. Again, there’s a LOT going on there, and it’ll come up again in the fic. But it’s worth mentioning, since it’s not exactly obvious!

Personally, I find the question of what makes a relationship platonic vs. romantic to be really interesting… Especially since some people have romantic relationships that aren’t as physical. The nuances can get murky, so that’s definitely been a part of Akashi’s internal debate, which started back in Part Two of Storming The Castle.

About That Locker Scene

So now on the topic of being self-indulgent… I really couldn’t resist including that Seirin cameo scene. XD I love Seirin SO MUCH, and I really miss writing about all of them! Plus, I thought it would be kind of funny to answer a question that absolutely no one asked…

Which is, if we assume that Furihata is attracted to Akashi, then which guy would he find the most attractive on his own team? I honestly can’t remember why I came up with an answer to this question. //laughs But I did at some point, and now you all know my theory. (Basically, ikemen/pretty-boy point guards who are very skilled, but don’t have the most successful humor and are actually kind of huge nerds? Lol.) I also had a backup answer, which was probably obvious in the scene too. XD

And on a random side note, the phrase “some kind of magical ab factory” is one of my favorite phrases I’ve ever written. Pfft.

Also, if you’re wondering why the Rakuzan players didn’t get more of an appearance this time, don’t worry! You’ll definitely see more of them soon. (A lot more. Probably way more than anyone wants. //laughs)

On Furihata and Bisexuality

Anyway, in all seriousness, I’ve been looking forward to writing these scenes where poor Furi is trying to figure out his sexuality for FOREVER. There are a lot of reasons why… The two biggest ones have to do with LGBTQA+ representation, and explaining a key part of the romantic plotline of the series.

So I’m sure a lot of readers were wondering how in the world Furihata managed to be in denial for so long about his attraction to Akashi… Especially given that he’s called Akashi handsome and pretty, and has literally been ogling him for most of the series? //laughs So this is loosely based on something I noticed when I was younger, both in terms of my experiences and those of people I knew. When I was a teenager around fifteen years ago (I know, the dark ages, haha), the concept of bisexuality was really underrepresented, and often ignored. It did exist, in theory. But a lot of the time, most people just assumed you had to be gay or straight—or otherwise you were confused/undecided. Which was, of course, not exactly helpful.

The Spark of Light series takes place in 2010. While the overall understanding of bisexuality was improving by that point, there were still plenty of issues (and still are, to be honest). Also, the idea of bisexuality wasn’t necessarily being discussed in mainstream Japan… Being attracted to more than one gender has existed in their culture for a long time, of course. (Just look at their history and literature!) But from what I understand, due to a whole bunch of complicated reasons, there hasn’t been the same emphasis on recognizing the modern idea of bisexuality as there has been in, say, Western countries. That being said, things in Japan are changing a lot recently. And I could go into that, and how fascinating it is, but I’ll save it for another day!

What I do want to emphasize, though, is that not very long ago, a lot of teenagers tended to assume they were either gay or straight, period. For all kinds of reasons, many of us didn’t really consider anything else. And because of mainstream social conditioning—and homophobia—it often made sense to focus on your attraction to the opposite gender, without trying to figure out if you were attracted to other genders as well. To be honest, I’m guessing this still happens in a lot of places, given how much pressure there still is to be straight/have heterosexual relationships.

Which brings me to the issue of representation… One of the places I used to notice a lack of bisexual representation, oddly, was in fandom. Back when I started to post fic online (circa 2005), if fans had a headcanon that a character was attracted to another character of the same gender, it was typically framed as, “They’re gay.” Even if the character had relationships in canon with the opposite gender.

In fanfiction, this was often explained with something along the lines of, “He thought he liked women, but he really didn’t/was repressing his sexuality.” More often, the issue wasn’t addressed at all. Of course, gay-but-repressed is a completely valid interpretation, and happens in real life! But I always found it kind of strange that no matter how much the character seemed to have enjoyed their past relationships, people rarely concluded, “They’re bisexual.” I see bisexual headcanons a LOT more in fandom now, which is awesome! And I really wanted to contribute to that.

So when I started A Spark of Light, I knew Furihata would be finding out that he’s bisexual. I wanted to go with that interpretation, instead of implying that Furihata never actually wanted a girlfriend when he joined Seirin, or that he was confused, etc. I also wanted to attempt to portray what it’s like to be attracted to more than one gender, when you’re still figuring out your sexuality and you suddenly realize you’re attracted to more types of people than you originally thought you were? (And that some of the attractive people you ogled, but just assumed it was in a purely aesthetic/platonic way, were actually some of your crushes. //laughs)

So long story short… Furihata having such an obvious crush on Akashi, and yet not realizing it for so long, was definitely intentional! (Whether or not it worked well in the story being a separate issue, haha.) Because sometimes teenagers don’t hear often enough that they could be bisexual, so they don’t fully consider it, and it can take a while to figure it out, and sexuality can be fluid/change over time… And also, adolescence is generally a kind of weird period in life. XD (And so are the ways that social expectations affect our self-perception, especially when we’re young.)

In any case, this is just the beginning of Furihata exploring that issue, and what it means for him. But I wanted to make sure to clarify some of it as soon as possible, to give some idea of what I was trying to portray.

And Finally, Some Feelings About the Train Scene

I have to admit, I got a little emotional when I was FINALLY able to write Furihata riding on another N700 train, and thinking about how he has a crush on Akashi. <3 I’ve been looking forward to this moment in the series, and for Furi to realize he’s always been attracted to Akashi, ever since I wrote this part in The Fast Train to Kyoto WAY BACK in the fall of 2015:

“Akashi was sitting beside the window, just like before. He had a laptop computer balanced on his tray, and was typing away. Furihata couldn’t help noticing that he looked more unreal than ever. The ember-like glow of the sunset shone on his skin, mirroring his crimson hair and eyes. He looked like a picture of some kind, and way more mature than a teenager, with his blazer slung over an armrest and his shirtsleeves rolled up at the elbows.

Furihata had meant to speak first, maybe make up some excuse for running off, or even apologize for being such a nutcase. But when he opened his mouth, his tongue and throat felt strangely dry.”

So yeah, that’s how far back some of the foreshadowing goes. XD; I do enjoy writing subtext, but it’s so nice to finally be at a point in this series where the characters are having to face up to their changing feelings, and figure out what it means for them going forward. Also, I’m just so happy that I was able to get to this part, even though it took so damn long! It was worth the struggle. <3

I hope those of you who have been following this series enjoyed the chapter! And I hope you’re as excited as I am to be going back to Kyoto with these precious nerds. (It might get a bit intense, I won’t lie. //laughs) The next chapter is more or less ready to go, so my current plan is to post it in about two weeks. And I’m also hoping to post a lot more of the story during the summer. <3

#the vanishing prince #kat writes fanfic #long post #kat writes about basketball children #text post #good lord why are these notes so long #I know I ramble but yikes #ANYWAY I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS FINALLY #especially confused bisexual Furi #and Reo with tarot #AND BASICALLY EVERYTHING #also Bokushi's scenes are really fun can I just say #he is so snarky and fancy it is ridiculous XD #kat writes about basketball dorks #akafuri

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domeyashiro · 6 years

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100 Questions & Answers - Part 3

The next batch of questions from the Yoneda Kou Fanbook. Only one more part to go. I’m putting the last question of this post before the cut, because it fits better there, and I don’t want anyone to miss this info. When you see someone complain about the long wait between chapters somewhere again next time, feel free to link them to this post.

On to the questions:

About Yoneda-sensei herself

Q43: How many hours do you work per day?

Lately, the time I’m awake minus the time I need for household tasks, minus the time I’m doing nothing, so about 12 hours in total? It depends a lot on whether it’s one week or three weeks before my next deadline though.

Q73: How much sleep do you get before a deadline?

When I am working on a chapter, I sleep 5 hours on average. During the “final battle”, which means the last week before my deadline, I sleep around 2 ~ 3 hours per night.

Q44: Do you deny yourself certain things, or follow any kind of superstition while working on a manuscript?

I’m actually denying myself quite a few things at the moment, like going out for example … When I’m done with my current work, I want to do lots of things!

Q45: Do you sometimes start crying while working on the story, because you’re feeling with the characters?

I do tear up sometimes.

Q46: When you create a story, what do you attach most importance to?

The emotional development [of the characters], I guess. At what point of the story which change will take place in them. I prioritize how each character would think and act [in any given situation].

Q47: Is there anything you pay special attention to when drawing how male character’s express themselves? Anything you use as a reference?

I guess I do use movies or TV shows as a reference.

Q48: How do you decide on the titles [of your works]?

I lose sleep over them! Sometimes I come up with many ideas, but can’t make up my mind forever, while other times I come up with a good title on the spot, so there are various patterns.

Q49: How do you decide on the character’s names?

While I do look for a name that fits that character’s image, I also pay attention to how it sounds and feels when said out loud. I also try to find names that are easy to pronounce when the characters get addressed without honorifics [like -kun or -san]. But sometimes I just casually decide on a name, so that happens too.

Q50: I love your sense of color. Is there anything you draw inspiration from?

I don’t feel very confident about my coloring skills, so hearing this makes me very happy. Sometimes, when I see a photo I like, I might get inspired and try to get close to the colors of that image, but most of the time when I color something the outcome is unplanned.

Q51: Does it affect your mood in a negative way, when the story gets dark and angsty?

It’s not that I get depressed or anything. Reading and writing are probably different in that aspect that the reader feels the impact of a story more directly, whereas for the writer even an angsty story doesn’t really feel that angsty.

Q52: Don’t you get your characters or plots mixed up when you have more than one ongoing series?

I don’t mix up the plots, but I frequently forget how to draw character’s faces. Lately I’m dealing with so many characters that it’s sometimes hard to make them look different. In those cases, I draw them with the image of a certain actor in mind. I only do this with side characters though. And it hasn’t happened in Saezuru yet.

Q53: Do you sometimes reread your own works?

No, I only open my own manga when I have to look something up. But even then, I don’t really read much in them.

Q54: What do you do when you can’t come up with any ideas?

I give up and watch a movie or do something else to procrastinate.

Q55: What was your very first manga about?

The first manga I drew (in second grade) involved something like melon-aliens*. And I loved fantasy stories with fire spirits, water spirits and the like as a child.

Q56: Do you have a topic you would like to draw about next?

For a long time now, I’ve been wanting to draw a story that’s a little unusual, something totally non-realistic that I then want to make appear realistic.

Q57: What is the origin of your Eros?

Uhhh, what could it be??? This is difficult … Eros is a profound topic …

Q58: When you draw BL, do you draw from the seme’s or from the uke’s POV?

I don’t have a rule for that. Sometimes I switch between perspectives within the same work, sometimes I lean more towards one side, so it can be both.

Q59: What do you do when you lose your motivation for work?

I proactively skip work and do something else than drawing manga.

Q60: What was your biggest crisis in your life as a mangaka?

I’m trying not to overwork myself, so I don’t think I ever had a real crisis.

Q61: Please tell me what your preferred combination of seme and uke is, looks-wise.

Well, that should be easy to tell from my works. (Laughs) The type of seme I mostly go for is short-haired and tall … Or he and the uke should have a similar body type. My favorite uke characters range from average-looking to beautiful ones.

Q62: What kiss scenarios do you like?

I love those kiss scenes in foreign TV shows where the two characters finally become a couple. Those make my heart squeeze. In foreign TV shows and movies the actors kiss so beautifully, that’s why I sometimes rewind the scenes and watch them again wondering if I couldn’t use them as a reference for my own manga.

Q63: What do you like to eat when you’re working on a manuscript?

I snack a lot on chocolate and sweets, while feeling guilty for it. And I love Chip Star. I excuse this bad habit of mine by convincing myself that my brain stops working when I don’t eat anything sweet.

Q64: How would you analyze your own character (or how do you perceive yourself)?

I used to think of myself as a non-serious person, but it seems I am actually the serious type. I’m probably not very interesting. And I’m bad at making friends. (Laughs)

Q65: What’s your fetish?

I can’t really think of anything. Suits maybe? If I say suits, I won’t get into trouble, right? (Laughs) And voices, I guess? I love husky voices.

Q66: Besides drawing manga, do you have a skill that you are really confident about?

This sounds like a question in a job interview. (Laughs) Even drawing manga included, I don’t think there’s anything like that. Maybe the amount of times I say, “That’s too much trouble”.

Q67: If you could be the main character in a BL manga, would you prefer to be the seme or the uke?

If I absolutely had to decide for one side, I would choose the seme, because I could probably experience things I can’t do as a woman.

Q68: Did you participate in any club when you were still in school?

In elementary school I was a member of the wind (instrument) ensemble. In middle school I first played volleyball, and later basketball. My high school didn’t put any effort into club activity, so I was jobbing instead.

Q69: Please tell me one Chinese character (kanji) you especially like.

The character for “fleeting/ transient/ short-lived” 儚 (hakana-i)

Q70: Do you prefer western movies or Japanese movies?

I watch both, and I like both. Especially lately I feel that both western and Japanese ones have different qualities that I like. I don’t think I prefer one over the other. This applies to movies as well as to TV shows.

Q71: Do you properly eat 3 meals per day?

Yes, when it’s meal time I prepare something and properly eat 3 times a day.

Q72: Do you like to drink alcohol?

My body doesn’t seem to tolerate alcohol well, so I can only drink sweet stuff. White wine is okay too.

TL notes: * Probably inspired by the alien invaders of the Ultraman series that has always been immensely popular among Japanese kids.

#yoneda kou #yoneda kou fanbook #20072017 #100 qa translation #translation #i can't even survive on 5 hours of sleep #sensei please take better care of yourself

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katzuyas · 6 years

Text

written for @yoi-fanbook almost a year ago and so I’m finally posting it before 2017 is over~ hope you enjoy!

if your wings are broken, borrow mine

His job had always been easy. Sometimes too easy, boring even, and when that happened Victor strayed from the task he'd been given. Nudging lightly a guy who was too shy to ask the pretty model out, or lending a hand to a middle-aged couple who'd been trying to adopt a child for years on end with no luck; he broke the rules and reached out to humans. It wasn't enough to be hailed a miracle, but it made Victor smile. Put more wind in his wings on his way back home.

He loved his job.

Humans were curious creatures – their lives were short and hectic, but even in all kinds of despair they were so prone to feel there was always an inkling of hope in their hearts. Sometimes... sometimes Victor wished he could be one of them. To live so vividly, so intensely, to love, to be loved, to care for someone, to hope, to dream. How amazing it would be to see the world from down there, from where the humans looked up to the skies in awe and wonder, where the passage of time could touch him and make him grey with old age?

But he knew he couldn’t have that. He was an angel, his place was not among them.

So he watched, and he helped, and he created miracles – those small and those big, making the insignificant lives of humans something more, something that filled the world with the beautiful, pure energy of Life and Creation.

And that was enough.

***

With only a towel wrapped around his hips and another around his shoulders to keep his wet hair from dripping, he stepped into the bedroom. Yuuri was still nestled between the sheets, just like he was before Victor had left him. Face smushed in Victor's pillow and one arm slung around Makkachin, who was napping at his side, Yuuri was snoozing softly in the morning hush.

Smiling, Victor padded over to the bed.

"Yuuri," he called quietly. "It's morning, time to wake up."

But there was no reply. Victor knew better than to expect that. He rested his hand on Yuuri's head, gently threading fingers through the black locks. The tender touch, more than his words, stirred Yuuri from slumber and bleary eyes blinked at Victor.

"Good morning," Victor chirped.

He retracted his hand when Yuuri smiled back at him: a serene smile, warm and soft, still mulled with sleep. Yuuri stretched under the covers, waking Makkachin in the process. With tender affection churning warmly in his chest Victor listened to the moan that slipped past Yuuri's lips as his joints popped in all the right places.

"'morning," Yuuri mumbled over a yawn.

Suddenly unable to look at him, afraid of the strength of his own feelings, still so new, so intense, so precious, Victor stepped away from the bed.

"Where are you going?" Yuuri asked, following him with his eyes. "Come back to bed for a bit, it's still so early. We can nap at least half an hour more." And when Victor didn't reply, Yuuri whined: "Victooor..."

Victor only chuckled.

Happiness coursed in his veins and joy put a spring in his step as his heart danced to the ancient song of love, kindness, devotion, when he moved back into the bed and Yuuri's warm embrace.

***

Demons had no souls. Neither did angels.

But there were halves... Nephilims and cambions, daughters and sons of angelic or demonic descent, who still retained half their immortal soul from their human parent. They had no place in Heaven or Hell, forever sentences to suffer in the realm of men. Despite never asking to be brought into the world, they had nothing they could call theirs. Shunned by all, accepted by none – their only consolation was the scrap of humanity they'd never wanted.

Yuuri was one of them. And he despised it.

***

Anxiety, oppressive and ugly, sunk its claws in Yuuri's chest. It did so often, more than he'd ever admit. The darkness curling around him from inside out was familiar, a friend almost, pulling at his limbs and choking his breath away.

Yuuri had always dealt with it in a simple way: by not dealing with it. He curled in his bed, with lights off and curtains drawn, and slept through the heavy burden of guilt, sadness, desperation and shame.

He was half-human, it was only ironically fair that human weaknesses were to touch him as well. But as a half-demon he should've been able to handle it, to shrug it off. He should've... but he couldn't. Even in that he was a failure.

Tugging painfully at his hair, Yuuri swallowed a sob of anger. The voices in his head whispered over each other, louder and louder, driving him into insanity: mistake, failure, freak. Human.

Under the blanket, Yuuri trembled.

A hand, like a light among darkness, deceivingly warm and gentle, rested on his back. It chased away the heaviness, the fear, the disgust with a single touch – a feat none of Yuuri's efforts ever achieved.

Before he knew what he was doing, Yuuri opened his eyes and turned around to look into Victor's concerned face.

"Can I help?" Victor asked, voice soft and careful.

His eyes were bright, even in the darkness of the room. They were clear, and blue, so, so blue, that without even trying Yuuri could see the love, like clouds on the sky, nestled inside them.

"How?" Yuuri rasped through his tight throat. How could Victor do anything about–

"Any way I know," Victor answered with no hesitation. "Any way you want."

He was reaching for him, offering, but never taking, letting Yuuri make his own choice as if he had one, as if it was obvious, as if he was... human, and allowed to be.

Sinking into Victor's embrace right before he drifted off into blissful nothingness, Yuuri thought that maybe, just maybe, being human wasn't a curse like he'd believed. Maybe it was a hidden blessing instead.

***

Love was incredible, Victor always thought so. Every time he witnessed an act of kindness from one human to another he couldn't get enough of the pure, glowing energy of the Creator that filled the small space in the world with its precious light. It was warm and it drew him in like a flame calling to the silly moth, except here there was no danger – just love and light and life.

He wondered what it would feel like to be the one receiving that energy, that love. It must have been an experience like no other, he reasoned. Humans smiled. Some cried. And others laughed joyously. It surely had to be an ecstatic experience, an epiphany, a spiritual height of quality Victor couldn't possibly imagine.

Giving love, receiving love.

Victor wanted it.

Humans were so lucky.

***

A rose in the tall vase on the kitchen table. A rose on the pillow next to his when he unusually woke up after Yuuri. A rose atop his skating gear when he opened his practice bag.

Petals of heavenly blue curled tightly in the centre and spread out into a deeper shade until they dipped in purple, like a morning sky on the days where the world turned cold, but bright with colour. It reminded Victor of the past. A nostalgic feeling settled in his bones, in the tissue memory of his heart. It reminded him of that feeling when he hovered high in the clouds, watching, observing, the rising sun pressing a loving hand to the middle of his back in a soft push towards Heaven, towards home...

The door leading onto the small balcony squeaked and Yuuri stepped back inside. Scissors in one hand, he was holding a freshly cut blue rose in the other. The railing of the balcony was completely covered in vines, just like it had been the first time Victor had seen it. The roses sprouted from the vines proudly day after day under Yuuri's careful care, as if to repay him for his love and care, and Victor couldn't find a sight more uplifting to his spirits.

Yuuri smiled when he spotted Victor, stepping up to him with no reservation. He reached up and tucked the flower behind Victor's ear, eyes soft and warm. His fingers lingered in Victor's hair for a moment, tenderly brushing the ends.

"A beautiful flower for a beautiful soul," Yuuri said.

Victor shook his head in fond amusement and took Yuuri's hand, kissing the slightly chilled knuckles. He smiled back.

"No more than your own."

The flush of Yuuri's cheeks was a precious gem in Victor's memory.

***

The terms of his deal were simple – reap a thousand souls and live in Hell forever. Yuuri believed it wouldn't be hard, even with him being a halfling. He had an eternity for it, he'd manage at some point. Or that was what he'd thought before he actually stepped into the human world.

It took him years to find his way around, to somewhat fit in.

It took even more years to get over the initial shock that he would have to corrupt, to kill to take a soul.

Three decades later found Yuuri slipping.

He didn't want to kill. He never wanted it. His morality, that of a human more than a demon, grew stronger as his eyes opened to the real world. He'd spent so long amongst the humankind, day after day witnessing their short and vivid lives, that without even noticing he became thinking like one of them.

Killing was wrong. Killing was... something in Yuuri's chest throbbed every time he thought about it and he tried to pretend he didn't know what it was, but the truth was hard to run away from. His half-soul: the human part of him revolted at the idea of taking another's life.

But unlike the rest of humans, Yuuri wasn't blind. He could see the plethora of evil plaguing the societies, killing the innocents, blaming the weak. Demons were busy at work, pushing good people onto the paths leading into darkness, reaping the souls which before their touch were meant for Heaven – stealing, plundering, leaving corpses behind.

Yuuri was disgusted.

With them, with himself for ever considering it, with the angels who stood by, just watching, and did nothing even if they could.

Free will, they always said. All humans were created with a choice.

Yuuri was born half a demon, half a human, so did he have half a choice as well? He believed, he hoped.

And he resolved himself to taking only the souls which were already condemned, the souls of the broken, the souls of the fallen. Unsurprisingly, those were plenty in this vile and cruel world.

***

Laughter was a wondrous thing. The souls shone with pure light and happiness, so blinding and beautiful, no demon would be able to resist the temptation of tarnishing such light.

Yuuri watched them, jealous, but also content. His instincts, the demonic genes that pressed him to corrupt that which was innocent were quiet now. Hushed over by whole decades of holding back, they remained dormant even in the face of such temptation and that, more than anything, pleased him beyond simple content.

Looking at the small children skating around Victor in circles, laughing so carelessly, Yuuri felt relieved. He didn't need to kill, he didn't need to take souls – not if he didn't want to.

And he didn't. At least for now.

Victor's soul caught his eyes, brighter than most, a little wild, but unblemished. It filled Yuuri's vision like a burning bonfire. His constant presence next to him, feeding him light, chasing away the darkness, and clearing his thoughts was something Yuuri would never be able to explain. Why? How? He couldn't tell, even if he tried. Victor just... was. Some might have said Yuuri was the one being corrupted, that he was giving himself up, but Yuuri wanted it. To be close to him, not to devour, but just to be close to that light, to the warmth of Victor's beautiful soul.

Victor's eyes found him as if he felt Yuuri's gaze and he smiled at him. A smile of soft affection, cheerful, yet tender, and Yuuri smiled back. Skates glided across the ice and Victor stopped before him to take his hand. And Yuuri followed – willingly, happy that he could.

The warm hand leading him never let go.

***

Demons were born of human weaknesses. They fed on them, grew stronger, more powerful and corruptive. Thankfully, most of them spent their days in the deep pits of Hell, away from civilization and away from angels. There were some, however, who took pleasure in snatching human souls right from under the Guardians' noses.

Victor wasn't a Guardian, he was a Virtue, so as such his contact with demon kind was limited. Or it should've been. By some inconceivable twist of fate, Victor had seen this particular demon more than once. More than twice. More than…

It should’ve been impossible, but there he was now, staring at Victor with warmly glowing eyes. Their gazes met for just a second before the demon turned his head away, giving Victor unvoiced permission to ogle him, which he unashamedly did.

The demon looked human, painfully so. There were no horns, no tail, no evil aura clinging to his skin. In fact, if Victor couldn’t see him feeding on the soul of a broken man who’d beaten his two children to death just minutes before, he would’ve mistook him for a human.

Alas, half a soul that shone inside him, half the proof of his humanity, was bright in Victor’s eyes. A halfling, he realized with eyes wide in surprise.

The halfling finished his meal before his face contorted in disgust as if eating the soul of the murderer brought him pain. Fascinated, Victor drifted closer. There were two more souls in the small house, the soul of the older boy, which was ready to return to the Creator, and the soul of the small girl, who was clinging to life by a thread.

Victor was prepared to fight for both, the demons never missed a chance at a free soul, but–

The one before him only swept a bored glance at them and turned away.

Victor watched him go with mouth parted in surprise and curiosity burning in his chest.

***

Even after he'd been turned into just a human, Victor couldn't help it. He stood between the demon and the poor, terrified soul. He couldn't leave, he couldn't let the demon have it, he just couldn't walk by them and pretend he didn't see. But...

He couldn't really protect it either.

The demon cocked her head at him, dark eyes gleaming with malice as if he was a new toy for her to play with. And with his wings gone, with his heavenly powers gone, Victor would be just that if she attacked.

Fear curled around his heart, squeezing hard and urging him to run, but even then he refused to move.

"You're a Fallen One," the demon observed, a curious quirk to her lips. "What's a Fallen One doing pretending to protect a meagre soul? You'll die. For real."

"I don't care," Victor replied, gritting his teeth. "You're not taking this soul."

The demon laughed, a shrill, crazed cackle that raised the hair on Victor's nape.

"Oh, darling," she cooed. "I will take that soul. And I will take what's left of yours, too."

Before he could as much as blink, she lunged at him with the speed he could not match in his human body. Realization and resignation kept him still, even as her talons reached for his chest as if to pluck his heart out of it. Milliseconds of memories, of fragments of his life flashed before his eyes: Yuuri smiling, Yuuri pressed against him on the couch, Makkachin licking his face, Yuuri's face–

Yuuri's dark face, tight in anger, made Victor suck in a greedy breath.

He watched with unblinking force how Yuuri, his sweet, gentle Yuuri, grabbed the demon's wrist and with little effort flipped her over his shoulder, sending her body straight at the brick wall of the building nearby. The crash and crunch of bones reached his ears, but Victor could not look away from Yuuri. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

Yuuri's hand locked around Victor's elbow: a hard pressure, almost desperate.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

He wasn't looking at Victor, his eyes – now glowing with a strange light – were glued to where the fallen demon was trying to stand. Body tense and on guard, Yuuri shifted to stand before Victor protectively.

"Unharmed," Victor said, afraid to say more in case he distracted him.

The demon finally stood, glaring at Yuuri with heated passion. She hissed something, something Victor didn't understand, but Yuuri clearly did. His lips pressed together into a thin line. He didn't reply, however, and the demon snorted, sending Victor a fowl scowl before she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Yuuri was still tense when he turned to look at Victor for the first time. His hand trembled when he reached to touch Victor's cheek, and Victor smiled, taking the hand halfway and leaning into the touch. Yuuri's eyes never stopped glowing.

"You never stop surprising me," Victor admitted, a little awed.

It was strained and slightly on edge, but Yuuri laughed. Victor pulled him close and leaned their foreheads together, his panicked heartbeat slowing down in the safety of Yuuri's presence.

***

There was someone watching him. Yuuri could feel the gaze between his shoulders, heavy and sharp like a sting of a whip, but no matter how often it happened he could never tell where it was coming from. The humans around him mingled without a care and no one seemed to mind him, and yet...

The insistent itch of being followed made Yuuri uneasy. He clutched the sweaty hand he was holding onto and led the drunk girl slumping at his side into the apartment building. Up the stairs, down the corridor, until the door with a crooked 26 stared him in the face. He patted the girl’s pockets for keys and found nothing.

With a sigh, Yuuri closed his eyes briefly. Humans.

He checked if the girl’s eyes were closed. They were. The stench of alcohol hung around her closely, making Yuuri grimace, but at least her lack of restraint was good for this one thing. He could leave her before her door, sure, or he could… Since there was no one in the corridor except for them – he laid his hand on the doorknob. It opened with no resistance, a trickle of his demon power working its way into the lock and letting them in.

The gaze – heated, uncomfortable, overbearing – was still on him and Yuuri shivered. Quickly, he pulled the girl inside the small flat, but it was no use. The feeling was with him when he let the body leaning on him slip onto a small bed in a cramped bedroom. It was there when he shifted the girl around to her side, so she wouldn’t choke if she ended up puking. And it was still there when he left the same way he came from, locking the door behind himself.

Yuuri knew there was a chance that it was all his imagination, that he was just paranoid. But there was also a chance he wasn’t. Someone could’ve been watching him.

A demon? Trying to make sure he was fulfilling his part of the deal? Maybe. If so, they would certainly be disappointed. Yuuri smiled to himself, resigned to always be too weak for his brethren.

From the corner of an eye he noticed a flash of white and curious, he turned that way. The street was just as dark as before. Only the neon street signs flashed with colour, but none of them resembled the pure, unearthly white he was sure he’d seen a second before.

Oh well, he must have imagined it. It's been a long day.

***

Everything Victor did was undeniably graceful and charming, it was just a fact. From brushing his teeth, through falling on his ass on the ice, to finally... spilling food all over his lap. There was nothing that didn't make the people around him stop and stare, and as annoying as the attention oftentimes was, Yuuri couldn't help but be amused as well.

Leave it to an angel to make something as mundane as using chopsticks into a spectacle.

When another clump of rice ended up on Victor's lap before he could put it in his mouth, Yuuri couldn't sit back anymore. Especially when Victor's pouting face was making him breathless with the laughter he was trying so hard to swallow.

He nudged Victor's leg under the table while he picked up his own chopsticks again to show Victor the correct way of using them.

"Watch me," Yuuri said.

"Always," Victor replied with a promise in his eyes, which somehow, Yuuri believed, had little to do with learning to eat with two pieces of polished wood.

Fighting off the urge to look away as his cheeks reddened, Yuuri cleared his throat. Stupid angel and his stupid charms.

***

His wings had always been beautiful. They sprouted tall from his back, right from his shoulder blades, and even though they were heavy, the weight was comforting like a brother's back pressing into his own protectively, giving him strength and confidence. His feathers were in immaculate condition, too. Long, soft to the touch, pure white and glowing subtly with ethereal light of the Creator – they were Victor's personal pride and joy.

His wings were an object of admiration to many, and even Victor himself marvelled at them from time to time; he was one lucky angel. He loved them, from the tips to the delicate padding of feathers across his back, which hid the place the wings dipped into his flesh seamlessly. It would hurt to–

"Are you sure it is what you want?"

The Holy Spirit, an entity made purely of light, was right before him as he knelt on the golden floors before the Heavenly Seat. He was a Virtue, one of many belonging to the Second Sphere under the Spirit's jurisdiction, so even though God was presently seated on His throne, it was the Spirit's voice that resonated within Victor's mind.

He stroked one of his wings, a fond smile on his lips. He was going to miss them, but...

With no hesitation, he gave his answer: "It is."

The waters of the stream that spilled from a crack in the throne and run through the whole of Heaven, curling and winding around it in a protective embrace, were bright and clear – just as was Victor's dedication to the mission he had imparted onto himself.

Even if it meant losing something precious in return.

"So mote it be," God proclaimed, and Victor fell.

***

He tried not to think about it, to pretend it didn't bother him, but sometimes... sometimes it did, and keeping it in was too much. The scars on his back were paling, the pain when he moved his shoulders was near to nonexistent, and when he put on a tick sweater even the cold wind didn't faze him.

But the weight, the weight threw him off.

Without his wings, Victor felt bare. He felt too light. Just catching his balance the first few days was a challenge, and although he got quite used to it with time, he still couldn't help but move the shoulder muscles that linked to his wings whenever he tripped – only to be reminded by the sting in his hands when he caught himself falling that his wings were truly gone.

He knew that he gave them up willingly. And yet... it didn't hurt any less.

A knock on the bathroom door made him startle. Wide blue eyes filled with unshed tears stared back at him in the mirror just as Yuuri's muffled voice came from the other side:

"Victor?" he asked. "Are you okay in there?"

Yes, of course, he wanted to say.

Not really, he admitted only to himself.

But when he opened his mouth, it was only "I'll be right out!" that left it.

Yuuri was waiting for him, concern on his face and warm light in his eyes, which Victor let himself sink into when Yuuri gathered him into a hug. Careful hands rubbed his back, knowingly or not soothing the phantom ache where his wings were supposed to sprout from.

Victor gave them up.

But he gave them up for a good reason.

For this: this soft smile on Yuuri's face when he peered into his with gentle consideration, for those tender hands, and love.

He gave his wings up for freedom. And he would've done so again, and again, because Yuuri was worth it. He was worth more than a pair of wings and Victor, if he could, would've given him the world.

***

They've never officially met. At least Yuuri didn't think so.

Those curious, fleeting looks traded from afar couldn't count as having properly met, so when he saw him in the park he'd frequented on his way back home, he truly saw him for the first time. Not the translucent silhouette hidden from human sight, not the flash of gorgeous white wings in the corner of his vision, disappearing faster than Yuuri could turn around. He saw him: standing there on the stone path and looking up to the sky in childish wonder as if he never before had seen the colours of the setting sun.

Yuuri's steps faltered for just a second, but he didn't let it stop him. This wasn't his business. Whatever he was doing here of all places wasn't his business. They didn't know each other, it was just a coincidence, just a big–

"Yuuri!"

The voice startled him and he tripped, barely saving himself from falling. Once the wild beating of his heart somehow settled off the thoughts of smashing his nose on the hard stones, he turned around. A smile, blinding and overjoyed, was sent his way and for the love of everything, Yuuri couldn't remember a thing he'd done to deserve it.

"Do–" he started, faltering, and after a deep breath trying again: "Do we know each other?"

He frowned, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows as the smile disappeared.

"You don't recognize me?" he asked. "I swear I've seen you looking straight at me a few times..."

Yuuri stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't–"

"Ah, no matter then!" The guy waved his hand carelessly, smiling again at Yuuri in that blinding, all-too-happy way which made him speechless. "I'm Victor, it's nice to finally meet you in person."

And Yuuri automatically took his hand, because that's what people do when someone is offering theirs – they shook hands and, through the veil of bizarre that was covering his eyes, Yuuri felt the very human warmth of Victor's palm, the slow flow of the blood in his veins, the thumping of his heart; and he knew, then, that something just wasn't how it used to be.

***

"You knew?!" Victor looked at him, shocked. Yuuri shifted, embarrassed. "How could you not tell me?"

He was sulking, Yuuri noticed with a small smile.

"It just never came up?" he offered carefully.

Victor huffed a little, kicking a lonely stone off the path they were taking. He was mumbling something under his breath, something too quiet for Yuuri to hear, so he let Victor process. Finally, Victor lifted his head to look at Yuuri again with his dangerously bright eyes.

"So that day we first talked, in the park, you knew who I was?" Victor asked again. "You knew I was an angel?"

Yuuri nodded. "I was surprised when you talked to me, but, well, it's hard to mistake you for someone else... so yes, I recognized you."

"And you didn't say anything," Victor pouted again and Yuuri smiled sheepishly.

"I didn't want to seem rude," Yuuri admitted. "An angel without wings... It's not exactly something you bring up over tea."

It made Victor chuckle. A second later, he whirled before Yuuri, taking his hand and lifting it up to press a kiss against the knuckles.

"A demon caring about an angel's feelings," he teased with a smile. "Only I could be so lucky to find one."

"That makes two of us, then, since I found a silly angel that cares about a halfling demon spawn enough to give up his wings for him, " Yuuri replied with a smile of his own, light, happy, careless and right.

***

Angels didn't belong with demons. They were opposites, enemies, never meant to cross paths as more. But from the moment Victor had laid his eyes on Yuuri, he knew he was different. They both were.

What shouldn't have happened, did happen.

Victor couldn't help but wonder if this was the Creator's intent, if this was his Will, or maybe... it was Victor's final miracle, his biggest, best work yet – a miracle of love, compassion and forgiveness.

***

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

— Genesis 1:3

#yuri on ice #victuri #victuuri #vikturi #viktuuri #my fic #decided to publish it even tho it's an old one #but I somehow really like it #hope you enjoy it too

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