#listen if you see any incorrectly used terms please look away
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Dog Days
Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader
Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.
Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story
Word count: 3.3k
Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!
Masterlist | Bonus
Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.
Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.
And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.
But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.
For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.
That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.
You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.
Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.
But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.
That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.
A poem.
Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.
Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.
Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.
It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.
Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.
This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.
The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.
So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.
You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.
A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.
Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.
And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.
A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.
All that was left was getting the dog.
Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.
A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.
With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.
The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.
When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.
Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.
“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”
“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.
“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.
You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.
“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”
You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m pregnant.”
Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.
The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.
Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.
Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.
A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.
-
“Choklit!”
The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.
“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”
He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.
Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.
Hopefully, your luck would persist.
With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.
You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.
A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.
Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.
Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.
The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”
Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.
“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.
At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.
“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.
“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.
You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.
He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.
Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.
Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.
“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.
“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.
You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.
“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”
You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”
“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.
“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.
“It’s addressed to me.”
“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”
Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.
Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.
“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”
She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”
You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.
The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”
“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”
You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.
“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”
A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”
“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”
At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.
“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.
She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.
“I never said no.”
You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”
“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”
“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”
Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”
The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.
“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”
Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.
“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”
He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.
Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.
“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”
#you guys would not BELIEVE the amount of googling i did for this fic lmao#wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addams x you#wednesday addams imagine#jenna ortega#i have a newfound respect for poets#because even writing up a trash mock poem for this fic was HARD#listen if you see any incorrectly used terms please look away
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Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately
Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.
The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.
Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.
Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:
Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.
They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.
“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”
Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.
Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.
“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”
Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”
For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.
Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.
“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.
“I wouldn’t be too sure.”
This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.
The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.
By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.
Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”
She doesn’t, not yet.
Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”
She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.
Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”
“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”
“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”
“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.
She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.
According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.
But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?
Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.
The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”
With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.
-
Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”
Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.
How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.
She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.
That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’
According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.
Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.
Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.
“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”
He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.
Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”
Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.
Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.
Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.
Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”
The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”
“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.
“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”
“What the fuck.”
Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”
Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.
“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.
“Haven’t you been hearing it?”
“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?
“Jude-”
She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.
Vinny knows.
Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.
Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.
-
For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.
It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.
-
The third day, a letter slips under her door.
She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?
Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)
Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.
Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.
It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.
Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.
While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.
Vinny,
I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.
Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.
She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.
Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?
Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.
-
Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.
Vinny says something borderline rude.
Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.
They laugh about it and move along.
There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.
Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.
This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.
Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?
“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”
Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”
Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.
Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”
Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”
Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.
“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”
Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.
They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.
Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.
Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”
“You tell your mom about your love life?”
Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.
She’s literally twenty four. She has time.
“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”
“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.
Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.
“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”
Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.
“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”
For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”
-
Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.
“So it’s me?”
“Always has been.”
“And you never said anything.”
“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”
“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”
“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”
“You’re always calling me stupid.”
“Not like that, stupid.”
“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”
“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”
“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”
“Have you considered therapy?”
“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”
“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”
She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.
A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”
Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”
“What was that about?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”
“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.
“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”
“If you ease into it.”
“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”
“...No. What?”
“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”
Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.
After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”
Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.
Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.
“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”
To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.
“And… Get rid of Jude.”
“What?”
“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”
“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”
“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”
Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...
“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”
Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”
There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.
Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”
“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.
He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”
-
Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.
The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.
Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”
“My ex,” he says.
An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.
He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”
Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.
“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”
“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?
They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.
“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”
���You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”
“Y Nhi!”
“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”
A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”
“Yeah. Bad at life.”
“I swear to god.”
“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”
“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”
It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”
“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”
- bonus/epilogue -
They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.
They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.
In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.
But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.
Even I get lonely too
It’s not hard
Every question’s got an answer
And mine is you
Where you go then I will follow
All my life
You’re the name that I will whisper to the night
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Self-interview (but not really)
When I heard about @sherlollyappreciationweek hosting a self-interview event, I thought it would be fun to participate, so people could get to know me better as an author. But, instead of doing a self-interview, I approached some of my readers and asked them to pose questions for me to answer.
I’m not aiming at making this about me personally. It’s all about me as an author. If you want to know about who I really am outside of my writing, feel free to chat with me privately.
The name of the person asking the questions will precede each section. As this interview is rather long, I will do it in two parts.
MossRose10
Q: What personal experiences or skills (in broad strokes), besides your faith, have influenced what you write about for your characters?
A: I know I see Molly differently than most people, in a more wholesome way. When I look at her character on the show, she doesn't seem the type to have a long sexual history, but instead, seems to be someone who has devoted her life to becoming the best pathologist she can be. I adore her character, and to be honest, I put a lot of my own traits into her - including her love of singing and faith. My post TFP Sherlock has had his true nature restored by the events of Sherrinford. Thus, he is emotionally stable and able to love Molly deeply. I can write him that way because I happen to have a romantic, loving husband (lucky me!). A lot of times in my married stories, I draw on experiences I've had that I have fictionalized for the characters. I usually refer to these in author’s notes. I also love writing about their children, and put a lot of thought and personal experience into writing for them from watching my own daughters grow.
As for the other characters, I just write them the way I feel reflects their personalities best from what I’ve observed in the show, working on fleshing out their characters more as I’ve continued 3 years worth of storyline beyond TFP. For example, my version of Mycroft has mellowed a lot and married Lady Smallwodd, and John has also become a Christian and is remarried with a son.
Q: What kinds of characters do you find most challenging to write, and what strategies do you use to write them?
A: I don’t think I necessarily have a lot of issues in writing the canon characters because I have watched the show so many times I feel I know them personally. Probably the most challenging thing is writing for OC’s or peripheral characters I may have brought into a story that we haven't seen a lot of (like Billy Wiggins or Philip Anderson). I must admit, I have written very little about Moriarty, because most of my stories take place after his death.
dmollyc
Q: What character is hardest to write?
A: I kind of addressed this one in the above answer, but I do think I'd find it difficult to write for Moriarty because I'm not sure how well I could get into the psyche of a deranged madman!
Q: Do you get any nasty reviews?
A: Thankfully, not many. Most of the negative ones are people reacting to a story out of context. They will read a story in the middle of my chronological timeline and then complain that the characters are OOC. When I write my continuing stories, I assume that people are familiar with the characters as I’ve written them already, so this can cause confusion.
Because of the Christian themes, I have lost readers who object to the theology I present through my characters. Obviously, I will not please everybody.
But generally speaking, people are very kind about my work when they review it, and I especially love the reviewers who immerse themselves into my world of Sherlock and Molly and embrace my post-TFP version of them.
Q: What do you like best about your stories?
A: Probably what I like best is that I've found a unique niche in the fandom in creating a whole Christian theme, and writing a lot of different stories with the same theme. I've not seen anyone else doing that (although I'd love to see it done by others).
I enjoy writing my own continuing post-TFP happy ending for Sherlock and Molly, expanding their universe and that of the other characters from Sherlock as well.
Also, I enjoy showing Molly as someone with a belief in saving herself for marriage. It's not going to be a popular idea for the general population, but I know many Christians can relate to that desire to keep sex for that special someone rather than experimenting with every boyfriend they date.
I also think I do a pretty good job in writing love scenes that are steamy, but still clean, although I’m aware that some readers are more sensitive who find them too steamy. I write using my own inner guide for how far to take things in the bedroom. Some stories are definitely steamier than others, but there are certain graphic terms I will never use in my writing because I feel they cross the line of my own comfort zone.
Chelseamh98
Q: How have you overcome the challenges of your vision impairment?
A: This is definitely an ongoing process for me. When I began writing, my proofreading would just consist of looking over the chapter a couple times to try to errors. I have issues when typing on my iPad because of the flat keyboard surface. That means I often type a word incorrectly. To help compensate for that, I have hundreds of words in my “text replacement” section, so that certain words I often mis-type automatically correct to the right word. I have a bad tendency to hit the M instead of N or vice versa, for example. A few months after I began publishing, someone suggested I use a text-to-speech app to help me identify incorrectly spelled words. That did help. I copy a chapter into the text-to-speech app and watch my chapter in a split screen as I listen to the words. That has been a big help. Then, this year, I discovered a free website called prowritingaid, which I now use as another editing tool, and it identifies even more spelling and grammar errors. So now I find myself writing, proofreading as I go along several times as I write. When the chapter is finished and I am ready to publish, I do another visual read. Then I use the prowritingaid site as another editing step. After that, I use the text-to-speech app and listen as I read. Finally, I copy the whole thing into Google Docs, add italics and bold type and glance through the chapter again to see if Google Docs has discovered any more errors. It's a very long process, believe me, and it takes so much longer to do the editing and proofreading than to write! For me, the writing part is easy!
Q: Does it (visual impairment) affect the way you write?
A: Physically, yes. I cannot use a computer, because I need to be inches away from the screen to see what I am doing. Sometimes I will sit at a table and write, but usually, I put three cushions on my lap and sit my iPad on top. Over time, that method has caused me to have pretty severe tendonitis, but I have no other way to write, and it's worth the pain to keep writing! Currently, I am also dealing with frozen shoulder as part of the physical issues.
Also, I have to enlarge my text to write. I use the Colored Note app for my chapters, set to the maximum size of 36, and when I go into Google Docs, I set the size to 25 so I can read it.
Q: What part about writing do you find the most challenging? What’s the easiest?
A: As I mentioned above, the most difficult part is definitely the editing/proofreading process because I have to work so much harder than a normally sighted person, and it takes up a huge chunk of time.
Also, I am very particular in trying to write realistic fiction whenever possible. That means a ton of research. For example, in my story where Molly was shot, Confronting Evil and the Truth, I researched a lot about gunshot wounds and how to care for them. In A Honeymoon Journey, my characters went to Stratford-upon-Avon, and I researched that location thoroughly for many of the chapters. In my latest COVID-19 series, I have followed the pandemic closely in the UK and have added many real situations that have happened there. Research, research, research!
The easiest part is definitely writing the story itself, especially dialogue. I can hear the characters in my head telling me what to write. I rarely suffer from writer’s block, unless I am trying to think about how to write a mystery or crime and how to resolve it.
Aslan's Princess
Q: Where do you find inspiration? Is it something specific? Or multiple things?
A: I find inspiration mainly in two areas. First, from watching episodes over and over and analyzing them. Second, I also find inspiration in my own life, in bringing in real experiences I am familiar with (such as pregnancy and childbirth). Occasionally I will read a story or a review where someone tells me something that sparks my imagination. My current WIP, The Good Book, was actually inspired by a gif-set one of my readers, Penelope Chestnut showed me. It got me wondering what would happen if Sherlock suddenly discovered the Bible (shown in TBB) in his bookcase and decided he wanted some answers about the meaning of life.
Justwritebritt
Q: What drives you to keep writing?
A: Certainly, one of the most motivating factors is hearing from readers who enjoy my work. Readers generally have no clue what kind of power they possess when it comes to encouraging a writer to keep going. A pat on the back is always a good thing. I wish more people could understand that.
Aside from that, though, I feel a calling from God to keep writing. I like sharing my faith through Molly (and Sherlock). My hope is that people will find my stories inspiring and encouraging.
Q: What/Who can you absolutely not write without?
A: I cannot write without my iPad. I use it not only to write, but to research and to watch Sherlock on Netflix. it's my all-in-one resource!
Q: What is your favorite story you've published so far?
A: I will always love A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage, because it is the “mothership” from which all my other stories spring, but my writing technique was not great at the beginning; there’s an obvious improvement in later chapters. But, I am also very fond of Sherlock’s Dream of What Might Have Been. That one tells a story of Sherlock and Molly meeting in uni, and then jumps to the canon, inserting a secret relationship (and child) throughout the series canon. I put a lot of thought into filling in Season 4 backstory as well.
Q: What (in vague terms) story are you looking forward to telling next?
A: I have a few stories in the pipeline that I am looking forward to sharing. One that steps away from the overt Christian themes is a Pretty Woman AU. I haven't seen anyone attempt an AU for that movie, and I look forward to sharing it. Perhaps it will spark interest with a few more readers because it isn't heavily weighted on the Christian theme scale, but is merely one of my more whimsical, creative story ideas. It is the first story I have written that combines elements from both a movie and the Sherlock narrative.
I also have a couple of one-shots that I will publish in the timeline of my WIP Journey to a New Home, one,that deals with the topic of divorce using a Biblical perspective, plus one that sheds light on the subject of depression.
End of Padt 1.
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Grammar Tips That Are Actually Useful #2
So I honestly didn’t expect to do another one of these, but ever since my first GTTAAU post got a whole bunch of hits over the last few days, I decided to do another one about a popular piece of grammar that I notice is often misused.
Writers, gather ‘round as we explore the dreadful and terrible aspect of writing that is the...
Epithet.
Dun, dun, duuuuuuuun!
I first want to preface this by saying that I was notorious for this. I am so sorry to everyone who read my TMNT fics from 2016; I didn’t know better and I apologise profusely!! I went entire pages without naming a character in the narrative and I have no one to blame but my own ignorance, which has now been remedied - Hallelujah!
To explain: An epithet has a few definitions, so let’s take a look at them. (Definitions courtesy of dictionary.com.)
1. Any word or phrase applied to a person or thing to describe an actual or attributed quality: “Richard the Lion-Hearted” is an epithet of Richard I.
2. A characterizing word or phrase firmly associated with a person or thing and often used in place of an actual name, title, or the like, as “man's best friend” for “dog.”
3. A word, phrase, or expression used invectively as a term of abuse or contempt, to express hostility, etc.
In other words, an epithet is an adjective or noun to describe or name someone without using their proper name.
(There’s a ton more under the Keep Reading, so buckle up.)
Epithets are used in a variety of ways to describe a variety of any character’s characteristics (haha). Most common examples for this are:
hair - the blond, the blonde, the black-haired person, etc.
eye-colour - the green-eyed person, the brown-eyed person, etc.
skin-colour - the pale-skinned person, the dark-skinned person, etc. (Side note: NEVER use food to describe skin colour/tone (eg. olive-skinned). It is offensive and wrong, so just don’t. If you have any questions, I’d encourage you to follow @writingwithcolor (which I do). They have excellent commentary for writers who write characters of varying ethnicities, religions, etc. Check out their FAQ before asking anything, though, because they’ve answered a ton of different questions already.)
status - the child, the teen, my boyfriend, his husband, etc.
profession - the engineer, the doctor, the ninja, etc.
species - the dwarf, the human, the dragon, etc.
or any combination - the green-haired teen (I saw this one in a fic from Izuku’s own POV), the orange-masked turtle (this one is mine and also from Mikey’s POV, and I am sooooo sorry.), etc.
There are, of course, dozens more of examples, but these are the most common ones, especially in fanfiction, so let’s leave it at that.
So why do writers use epithets so often?
Honestly, it becomes tedious and repetitive to write out the characters’ names all the time. It looks odd, too, all those ‘Mikeys’ and ‘Izukus’ and ‘Natasha Romanovas’ and what-nots. They’re just prancy-dancing all over your page and it looks. so. off. There’s just something about seeing characters’ names that, for whatever reason, some writers don’t like. And I kid you not, I had to train myself out of this way of thinking.
I had to train myself because as soon as I learned about epithets, I saw that I was using them absolutely everywhere. I would write literal pages without using anyone’s name, and four years later, I look back at those stories I wrote and posted publicly, and I cringe. But it’s the good kind of cringing because it lets me know how far I’ve come in my writing craft, that even though I’ve been writing for years and years, there’s always something new to learn. There’s always something to improve upon.
“Good for you, Red, but why are epithets so bad?”
Well, technically they’re not bad. They’re just used poorly or overused or both (as was my case).
We’ve already talked a bit about over usage (unless you missed the parts where I confessed to writing pages without using names), so let’s talk about poor usage.
Poor usage of epithets is when epithets are used incorrectly.
Here’s an example: Mikey looked at his red-masked brother.
Gah, that physically pained me to write! Okay, so what’s wrong with this sentence? Well, unless we’re writing for Mirage Studios’ comic (1984) where all four turtles of the TMNT wore red masks, then we’ve got a pretty good idea that ‘red-masked brother’ actually means ‘Raphael’.
Okay, great, so we know ‘red-masked brother’ is Raph, so why is this an example of poor epithet usage?
Answer: Because we already know Raph has a red mask. It is set. It is eternal. It’s a part of who he is, just like his skin or his shell. If you are at all familiar with this character, you will know that Raph is the ‘red-masked turtle’.
Here’s the thing epithets do. Epithets estrange characters from each other. This is why they’re most commonly and properly used for characters whom either we as the audience/narrator or the characters themselves do not know.
This is why phrases like ‘the dark-clad figure’ or ‘the blonde cashier’ are so popular - because we do not know who the people are! Sure, we can always go up to the dark-clad figure and introduce ourselves, or we can look at the blonde cashier’s name tag, and that’s sort of the point because we do not know who these people are yet. Epithets are used, more often than not, for unknowns until they are made known.
There are exceptions to this, of course, of course, most commonly of which are status ones: my husband, his son, their niece, etc.
These are fine, but use them wisely and sparingly (tying into the over usage part again).
Here’s a better example: I walked into the kitchen and found my husband already there and making breakfast for all three children.
‘My husband’ and ‘all three children’ are epithets, but they don’t estrange the characters, per se, because they’re letting us know who’s who and their importance to the narrator/character. That being said, you should still use ‘my husband’ sparingly because if you’re ‘my husband’-ing your husband, whose name is Henry, all over kingdom come, it begins to sound...not good. Like, why would you need to remind yourself Henry is your husband all the time? Do you have amnesia? Are you just forgetful? Are you insecure? Maybe he was unfaithful at some point and he’s doing better, but you’re internalising that and reinforcing the fact that he’s yours? Maybe you just don’t like his name? Or don’t know his name?
Hard to say.
The fact of the matter is this: the closer the characters are in terms of their relationship (platonic, romantic, as friends, as siblings, whatever), the less they will use epithets for each other.
For example: I, personally, have never thought of my mother as ‘the brown-haired woman’. She has always been mom or mum or other such derivatives. It never crosses my mind.
Contrarily, when I’m working at the book store and I’ve taken a few things up to the cash desk for a customer, I’ll let the cashier know that the items are for ‘the curly-haired woman with sunglasses’. Because she is a stranger to me.
Consider Disney’s film Lady and the Tramp (1955). I haven’t seen the live action, so I can’t make a comparison, but the 1955 version fits for what I want to talk about here.
Please name Lady’s owners.
If you said, ‘Jim Dear’ and ‘Darling’, you would be absolutely correct! While we can safely assume that ‘Jim Dear’ is actually ‘Jim’ or even ‘James’, we have no idea of Darling’s real name. Some pet names and nicknames are technically epithets if we’re being especially pedantic today (please see Disney’s Tangled’s character Flynn Ryder’s nickname for Rapunzel), but let’s say for the sake of argument that all pet names fall into the category of proper names, particularly since we’re talking about Lady and the Tramp (1955).
If you listen closely, you will notice that not once - not a single time, ever - do any of the characters that know Jim Dear and Darling call them by anything else (except for Jim Dear’s men friends at the baby shower; they all call him ‘Jim’). Even Darling’s friends call her ‘Darling’. Jock and Trusty both call Lady’s owners/masters ‘Jim Dear’ and ‘Darling’. Never ‘Lady’s owners’ or whatever else.
This is a perfect example of using names instead of epithets. It helps immensely that they aren’t main characters - secondary characters, certainly, but not main - but the point remains.
“But, Red, the Tramp never calls Lady by her name!”
And you’re right! But there’s a reason for that: Lady never formally introduced herself. The story begins in December of 1909 (thank you, Wikipedia). So by the time Lady is six months old, we’re well into 1910. Conventions in this era, as far as I know, not that I am an expert, dictate that ladies/women introduce themselves so that men could then address them (or something like that? Someone please correct me if I’m wrong). Since Lady never does that, Tramp is reduced to giving her the pet name ‘Pigeon’ or ‘Pige (Pidge?)’. Also, Lady doesn’t find out Tramp’s name until the dogs at the pound tell her.
Either way, Tramp is forced to use a pet name, but it is not an epithet simply because ‘Pigeon’ isn’t describing Lady’s characteristics.
Now, Tramp on the other hand...is a characteristic, and someone can definitely win the argument of whether this is an epithet or not. Hint: it is because it’s preceded by ‘the’. He is literally introduced as ‘the Tramp’ (Bull, the bulldog, says it first in a scene with him, Peg and the Tramp, and then Toughy drops it at the pound in front of Lady). This is his epithet, his defining characteristic, because he is introduced as it: The Tramp.
But this is not his only characteristic. He’s helpful and compassionate (the entire scene when he fights off three alley dogs chasing Lady and then proceeds to help her get the muzzle off), he’s also playful (shows Lady there’s more to life than “life on a leash”), courageous (he fights a rat), and respectful of Lady’s choices (tries to persuade her to run away with him but pursues the matter no further when she tells him ‘no’, and he also backs off when she’s mad at him).
This is what epithets do. Not only do they estrange the characters, but they also reduce the characters to a base level. Those well-rounded, complex babies you so carefully crafted become one-dimensional and flat in the span of a single phrase. They become ‘black-haired men’ and ‘green-eyed teens’ and ‘red-masked brothers’ and in that moment, that is all they are and when you continue to reinforce that, that is all the readers will see them as. Besides the fact that readers might very well forget their names entirely, especially if it’s an original work where the audience is not as familiar with the characters as they would be with fanfiction.
This is why Lady never addresses Tramp directly in the film. If she’s speaking to him, she’s looking at him so he knows she’s addressing him. It’s a subtle nuance in the film because Lady refuses to reduce Tramp to his epithet (once she learns it) because he isn’t that basic. (Another reason why Lady and the Tramp II: Scamp’s Adventure bugs me because I swear she actually calls him ‘Tramp’ and it feels so wrong for her to address him like that.) But Tramp gives Lady a nickname. See the difference?
So, yes. While epithets are not strictly bad, they are best when used properly and sparingly. Like, yes, please, feel free to remind us that Mikey loves his brothers and that Katsuki calls his friends ‘Spiky-hair’ or whatever. These are descriptive and good and should be used, just be aware of when and how often you use them, not to mention why. If you’re simply using an epithet for the sake of avoiding saying someone’s name, then it’s poor usage.
And holy freaking wow, this thing is ginormous! I’m going to stop here because I don’t think I can write another word about epithets and how important they are.
Thank you for reading! I hope this helps. And a reminder: check out RavenshellRorschach on DeviantArt for comprehensive how-to’s on some of English’s toughest homophones and grammar points.
Cheers, y’all!
~ Red
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Everyone is writing depressed Lance on the way back to Earth (and I just want to feel included) omega Lance
Lance was gutted. He felt like a worthless fool. A worthlessly embarrassing fool. He'd slipped. He'd let let whole team have a glimpse of a side of him he'd rather they'd never seen. He was Lance. The comic relief. The seventh wheel. The temporary Red Paladin who'd stupidly fallen under Allura's spell! He didn't get it. He couldn't figure it out, no matter how he thought, it all came back to, why?! Why had he let himself develop feelings for someone so... perfect, and brilliant and so far out of his league? Hey gorgeous personality, her beautiful appearance and enchanting smile... he'd thought he'd loved her... but he'd never realised to what degree... they'd been so close, now it all they had was awkwardness. And since when had all his pretending become reality?! He might have flirted with Allura since day, but he'd known he never had a chance. He was just a boy from Cuba... and a boy who's heart already belonged to another. So now, here he was. Listening to the others chatting, as his shook. Crying silent tears so as not to burden the others. They were all so happy. So happy that Keith had come back... even if he wasn't the Keith remembered. The Keith he remembered was barely the same height as him. He was the Keith with a quick temper, always baited by the slightest quip... but this Keith... he didn't know what to do. What to say. Keith had come back radiating an aura of maturity. An aura telling Lance his feeble jokes and bad flirting weren't going to be appreciated. He was now someone Lance didn't recognise, yet his stupid feelings wouldn't leave him alone. His verbal banter with Keith had kept him going. When everyone was busy, all it'd take was a look, or a gentle teasing of Keith's mullet and that was it, they'd fall into an almost family like fight, no real bite in their words, but nothing akin to love. That had been enough, but now he didn't even have that. He was alone in Red, Kaltenecker his only companion, and the memories of his death to keep him company. He was lonely and miserable. Hating himself for how desperately he wanted one of them to reach out, to simply ask if he was ok. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. They were going home, but what happened then? Shiro was back. Which once again meant there were more Paladins then lions. If they were to build a new castle with the help of Earth and the Galaxy Garrison, then they'd insist on staffing the castle with their people. Most suitable Paladin's would be selected, though it was up to the lions if they accepted them. None of them had asked to be Paladin's, yet the others... the others filled their roles so perfectly. There really was no space for him. Hunk's laughter filled Red. Pidge teasing him over something trivial, while Hunk spluttered and laughed. It hurt to hear. They were all so happy. So full of hope. While he was alone. He didn't even know if they knew he'd died. He could still feel the coldness nested in his heart, at first he'd thought it from Allura accidentally breaking it, but now he was sure it was from his death. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be dead and now he was sitting here like some abomination "Paladins, we'll set up camp for tonight on the planet ahead. We need to plan our trip home, and there will be much to do along the way" "Alright Allura. Because you asked so nicely" "Don't be hangry, Hunk. We'll feed you once we get there" "I'm not Hangry" "Sorry Hunk, I've got to agree with Pidge on this one" "Ha! See. Even Shiro agrees!" "Shiro, man. I thought we were friends" "I think we could all use some rest and food..." "I don't know if I'm ever going to get used to this confident Keith" "Don't start on me Pidge" "I'm just saying! You've changed" Allura giggled as something rustled in the background "Of course he's changed. He was gone for two years!" "And he comes back with such a pretty girlfriend" "Shiro, Romelle isn't my girlfriend" "Why not. She's pretty" "I can't believe you. I save you and this is how you repay me?" "What can I say? My little brother is so grown up" "Keep going and I'll put you back in a pod" "Now boys, no need to fight" "That's right. I'm recovering, go easy on me" "And he's only got one arm!" "And grey hair! You've gotten old!" "There's nothing wrong with my hair!" "Yeah, nothing a little dye wouldn't fix!" "Shiro, ignore Pidge. I think your hair suits you" "Shut up, Matt!" "Thanks, Matt" See. They didn't need him. They hadn't needed him when they'd stopped on Olkarion to explain the situation. They hadn't needed him when Matt had decided to join them. None of his friends had even noticed when he'd returned to Red ahead of time, only caring that he'd been in his pilot seat when they took off. It wasn't like he hadn't asked if there was something he could do, but Hunk had brushed him off, while Pidge had told him to leave it to the "big kids". He hadn't said a single thing to any of them since, that was a nearly a movement ago... * Landing on the planet, the others had landed so there wasn't actually any space for Red near them. The plateau they occupied was nestled between two sharply sloping rises, neither of which had enough space for Red, and the next closest space was a good three to four hundred metres away. Whatever. It was better this way. No one would hear him crying in his sleep, and no one would bother making the walk. He'd just get some sleep, and be yelled at in the morning for keeping them all waiting. Standing, Lance ran his hand over his pilot's chair sadly. He was going to miss Red. Even if she might not feel the same "Red, can you please open your mouth? I need to let Kaltenecker out for the night" Obliging, Red lowered herself, opening her mouth and allowing a cold gush of fresh air to fill her cockpit. Kaltenecker mooed, not at all impressed over the frigid air "I'm sorry girl. You know the rules" Kaltenecker went out at night, otherwise she'd mess up Red's cockpit in more ways than one. Leading his stubborn cow down, he tethered her right beside Red's jaw, before backtracking and grabbing her water pale "I know girl, but you've got plenty of grass?" Kaltenecker looked so completely done with him. He really must be pathetic "Don't worry. I'll make sure you go to a good home when we get back to Earth" Flicking her tail, she turned her back on him. Opening the doors to the cargo bay, Lance looked at the pathetically small piles of belongings he had. He'd tried to make the effort to keep things neat and organised in a manner that would make Shiro proud of him, but what was the point when he never talked to them? Back home, his mother had always been on his case about making his bed. About how an omega needed to know how to run a household. How to cook. How to clean. What to say. What not to say. What to wear. What to be. Every part of his life was ruled by his secondary dynamic, and it wasn't until he'd joined the Galaxy Garrison that he'd realised he was incredibly lucky to know everything his mother had taken the time to drill into him. Male omegas were a joke. An abomination. They weren't even permitted into the Galaxy Garrison, but Lance had gotten his letter of acceptance before he'd ever had his first heat. No. That came two weeks later when his mother and father were away on a business trip and he was supposed to watch the house with his older brothers, but they both had girlfriends and he'd been left alone. The moment he'd realised what was happening, he'd been filled with terror that just thinking of the memory still triggered that same terror. His mother had come to find him half dead, unable to care for himself during his heat. His brothers had been been smacked with her shoe until they'd both been reduced to tears, while he had been taken to the doctors and given a new and highly experimental shot, designed for long term suppression. He still got "heats" but instead of loosing control of himself, it instead consisted of a week of cramping and headaches, while his own sweet scent was completely obliterated. Something he considered a small price to pay to achieve his dream of being a pilot. Scents were one of the first things noticed when finding and selecting a desirable mate, but he couldn't smell the difference between an alpha and beta, or even a omega for that matter. The only scents he could pick up were from deodorants, or soaps, or shampoos. Things like that. When Hunk and Pidge had incorrectly assumed him a beta, he hadn't corrected them. Being a beta wasn't exactly high in social standing, but it was miles higher than a male omega. Shaking his head over the state of Red, Lance ignored it completely, making his way over to the pilot of blankets that now served as his bed, and crawling into them without even bothering to undress, or bothering to eat. The Olkari had made sure they were all stocked with enough rations to last them a phoeb. His having magically appeared one day in Red's cockpit without his knowledge. He would have liked to have thanked Ryner, but she was always so busy with everyone else that it always felt rude to interrupt. Now he'd probably never have the chance. Curling around his Bayard, he cried himself to sleep. Lance was awoken by angry pounding. His heart was racing, being woken by anger was perhaps the scariest way to wake. When his dad had lost his job, he'd drowned himself in drink. Being the youngest, Lance hadn't known to run and hide like the others. His father had knocked him around more than once, before his mother had thrown him out to get sober. When his dad had come home, things had gone back to normal... but the fear remained. It was an irrational fear his seven year old self couldn't understood. Every time his father would raise his hand, even if it was to ruffle his hair affectionately, his heart would race as he flinched away. Veronica had let it carry on for your years before finally explaining to him. He didn't hate his dad for hurting him, his dad hated himself enough over it for the both of them. But trauma is a funny thing. Climbing to his feet, he wrapped his arms around himself as he walked over to door in Red's mouth, pressing down on the hand pad to reveal a very pissed Pidge "What the fuck, Lance?!" "What..." "Don't what me. Your stupid cow was down at camp this morning. If you can't look after her, you never should have brought her with you" "Is she ok?" "No she's not. She's cut her back leg on something. Allura's going to take her so Romelle can treat her wound" "I..." "Just get your act together, and stop sulking. You're not the only one hurting right now" "I get it. Sorry, Pidge" "So you should be, we don't need the stress right now. We're heading out, so try not to fall asleep" He knew Pidge wasn't a morning person, but shit. He'd made sure Kaltenecker was tethered properly. He'd even double checked she was. Now she was hurt, and it was his fault... Once again the kept their coms at they flew. With no teladuv, they'd fly for six or so vargas, land on whatever moon or planet was closest for a short "lunch" break, then fly for another 6, before making camp for the night. As usual everyone was chatting off and on around him, while Lance stared down at his Bayard. Allura has said he was meant for greatness, and he supposed idiocy counted. The world's greatest idiot. That was him "So Lance, what's the first thing you're going to go when you get home?" Lance jumped at the sound of his own name, taking a few ticks to place the voice. Keith's mum... why was she talking to him? She should be happy with Shiro and Keith... she'd practically adopted Shiro on the spot "Knowing Lance its going to be something stupid, like chatting up girls by telling them he's some big space hero" "Either that or he's going to stuff his face. I can smell the garlic knots from here" Everyone laughed, Shiro pointing out that Hunk was probably going to be the one to stuff his face. Lance's face burnt. Keith had probably told his mum just how much of hopeless flirt he was, and about all the times he'd been rejected "Ha ha, good one guys" "See, he doesn't even deny it" "Seriously man, there's more to life than girls" When he didn't reply to Matt, Pidge giggled "Awww, I think we hurt his feelings. Lance, its ok. I'm sure someone out there will like your bad jokes" "It's fine. I'm going to take a nap" "Food and sleep! What a life!" The conversation moved on from him, Lance crawling from his chair, making his way to behind it as he hid his face against his knees. He just needed to make it home. If he made it home, he'd never see any of them ever again. When that nights planet was decided, he was the first to land, turning his coms off and heading out of Red before the others had even finished powering down. Relieving himself quickly, he ignored how light headed he felt. He probably should bother to eat, but it was just so much effort. Walking back to Red, he could see the others already making camp. Shiro supported by Krolia, Keith standing beside the protectively. It was a bitter feeling. Heading back into Red, this time he actually bothered to find a ration pack, and bottle of water. If he got sick, they'd all get madder at him. Settling down in the back corner of Red, he picked at the granola like bar with disinterest, while trying to figure out how to actually contribute to the team. He didn't want to be dead weight anymore. Lance was crying softly when something wet ran up his face. His breath caught as he tried to escape the situation, only to be yipped at as something solid pressed against his chest. Wiping his face, the omega blinked, sniffling as he realised it was Keith's wolf "Did you get lost again? I'm not Keith..." He couldn't even remember the dumb dogs name, but staring right into his eyes, it lowered itself down, huffing as it did. It's two large paws firmly against his chest, so there was no way he was going anywhere. Thumping it's tail, the wolf nuzzled at his face "I'm not your human..." Lance hesitated before wrapping his arms around the beast, nuzzling its soft coat as his soft cries turned to sobs. This was the first real warmth he'd felt in quintants that hadn't come from a cow "How come you're here? Keith's gonna be mad when he realises you've been slumming it with me" Carding his fingers through the blue fur, the wolf didn't pull away, though it did stop nuzzling at his face, instead resting its face on his shoulder "Sorry. I should let you get back" When Lance's fingers loosened their grip on the fur, the wolf let out a whine, as if telling him not to let go "Do... you maybe want to stay here a little while? I was going to go to sleep" Keith must have taught the wolf "sleep" as it pulled away, before laying beside his leg "What am I going to do with you?" Sliding down his bed, Lance tentatively snaked his arm around the wolf, burying his face back again the fur as his he pulled a blanket over the pair of them, and settled down properly "I don't know if you can understand me, but thank you... all I ever do is mess up... so.. thank you" That night was he first night since his death that Lance didn't wake from a screaming nightmare. Instead he woke to Keith's wolf liking at his face, and pawing at his chest "Alright, I'm up. I'm up!" Yipping, the wolf disappeared and reappeared, playfully lowering its self before each jump "You need to go back to Keith. He'll get mad" The wolf cocked it's head, as if telling him he was stupid "I don't have much for breakfast..." The granola bar from the previous night was still beside his pillow. Pulling the wrapper off, Lance threw the bar, the wolf catching it happily "You need a name. I don't know what Keith calls you, but I'm going to call you Storm. Thanks for last night, but I'll be ok. Go back to Keith before he gets too worried" Yipping again, the wolf disappeared, this time not reappearing the cargo hold. Today's topic of conversation was Keith's missing wolf. Lance hadn't turned on his coms until after they'd left the planet, so had come in late to the conversation "She was gone all night" "She probably just found a rabbit" "Her fur was damp... Coran, didn't you say that planet was devoid of water?" "Right you are, Keith" "Which means she was off getting into trouble" "She seems happy enough" "Maybe she's been raiding the supplies?" "Don't even joke about that, Pidge" "Why don't you follow her?" "Because following a magical disappearing space wolf is just that easy" Lance didn't even realise what he'd said until it'd slipped out. Allura had been asking a simple question "Wow Lance, someone's salty" "Lance, you didn't need to be rude to Allura like that" "I'm sure Lance has his reasons" No! Why was Allura making it sound like she deserved it... "That's not what I meant..." "It's fine, Lance" "Way to bring down a mood. Wanna play "eye-spy?"" "No, you cheat" "I do not cheat! You just can't match my level of intellect!" "Oh I beg to differ, Katie" "Are you challenging me, Matt?" "I just might be" "Bring it on!" Someone groaned, but Lance didn't want to hear it. Cutting the transmission, he pulled out his Bayard, activating it. Staring at the blade, he placed it in his palm, balancing it while sighing. He'd suffered with depression for years, even before presenting, but he'd never hit a low like this. Each time he'd felt low, he'd always forced himself to carry on, but if he was leaving them all, what was the point? He'd never tried to hurt himself intentionally, outside of punching the occasional wall or door, but maybe that's what he needed. Inside Red, he was safe. His emotions numbed to some degree by their mental link. Maybe that was why he was feeling so disconnected? He just wanted to feel something other than depressed, and pain... that wasn't sadness. With his shirt hiked up, and his pants unbuttoned, Lance had his bottom teeth captured between his lip as he stared down at his right hip bone. He'd always been so gangly. Too tall to be an attractive omega, and his curves were barely existent. Pressing his blade to his hip, he hissed as he nicked the skin, and drop of blood rushed to form. Shit... he'd actually... he didn't want to do this... yanking the blade back, the tip caught on his hip bone, cutting through his skin for a good inch and a half before he even realised what he'd done. He'd never been great with a blade, but now he'd panicked uselessly and done the very thing he'd decided not to. Blood poured from the wound while Lance cursed himself. Pressing his hand firmly to the site, he forced himself up, gritting his teeth as he stumbled into the cargo hold. Leaving bloody hand prints across his supplies, he finally found his first aid kit. Who the quiznak thought letting him a blade was a good idea? It took him nearly half a varga to dress the stupid wound because the bleeding didn't want to stop, and then his pants rubbed against the gauze, making him yelp each time he tried to move. The others would love this. He'd hit the bottom, tried to hurt himself, scared himself out of it... only for him to hurt himself and get blood all over the place.
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0820
August 20
I waited for the effect of an ability to disappear. It was out of curiosity on how long the guy named Steven would “pretend” to be friendly towards me. However, Steven hadn’t changed his behavior a bit. In fact, he was the first one to start the conversation or introduce me to his friends today. What’s more, he even ate lunch with me, the course in which I used to spend my time alone. He would ask trivial questions like my life before I came to the present school, or he would share his own story: that he moved from another country, that he had been shy to talk to strangers before and etc.
Although I tried my best to give him a response, back in my head, I did not know if the situation I was in was natural at all. I thought my ability was temporary. The effect should have been off now, returning Steven into one of the guys who had not mind me at all. Is my “visualization” becoming permanent? Knowing that his actions were only derived from my ability and awkwardness of talking to a student for a long time no doubt made me restless. I must give it a test on how it works. I can’t believe I do not know what I’m capable of doing properly…!
But...in spite all these…for some reason...
I didn't hate it.
August 25
I managed to draw more illustrations. This time, I divided them into two categories. One was a pack of simple items I thought my family would want the most: money, a plane ticket for family vacation and other random things. Another was a series of events. I sketched those that I had personally wished to occur. It was not easy to come up with them at once, but at last I narrowed them into two. I was reminded that I had a presentation tomorrow so I drew myself confidently reporting my assignment to my classmates and teachers to get good grades(my main objective). That’s one of my drawings for my personal desires. The second was drawing some of my classmates and teachers to make them have different personalities from their usual. If a guy was selfish, I drew him as a coward. If a teacher was cold-hearted, I made her the exact opposite. I didn't know how long it took to finish all of these sketches, and I had to do it secretly. Nowadays, Mother did not give me compliments for drawing; in fact, I was sure she hated me seeing me like this. Once, I tried to ask Father to convince her, but he only defended her and asked me not to disturb her anymore. Was he scared of her? To be honest, his behavior was like a person in front of a bomb that was about to explode when one single thing was handled incorrectly. There was no such thing as “bright” in my household. Ah, Mother is asking me to go to bed. I am getting busy lately, so I don’t think I can write as much as before. But if the results of my experiment appear, I can write them down here in my diary.
August 26
I have finally grasped the exact mechanism of my ability. This morning, all the items I drew--cash, a plane ticket and etc--were materialized on my desk when I woke up. I remember it was around 6 AM at that moment. However, at 7 AM, when it was time for me to go to school, they were all gone like thin air. It looks like my power to maintain an object is not professional yet; it would only last for an hour or less.
As for the event, I have never seen my ability work like what I discovered today. Steven remained as a gentle guy and said hi to me in the hallway, but that wasn’t what surprised me. The moment I entered the classroom, I knew the environment differed from usual. I saw Sean at the back, yet something was off. He was one of the most talkative boys whose voice shook the whole classroom. But today, he was just by himself and was quietly reading a book on his seat. When his friends talked to him, he would shyly back away or rather listen to their stories. This was quite a shock to them as he was usually the one to lead the conversation. Not only Sean, but also Erika, a mean girl who bragged about herself often, had a change of personality. She suddenly started to share sweets with us, together with complimenting how we look joyfully. Few more students and teachers had changed as well, whose names I can’t mention as the list would become too long. They had kept their new personalities throughout the whole school day.
After lunch, the time for presenting my project came. At first, I thought there wasn’t any effect on me. I was still a nervous, frightened girl who could only speak softly. With my handmade chart about animal and plant cells, I attempted to stop my hands shaking and opened my mouth to utter at least a word.
Then I heard someone exclaiming amazement. I turned to where it came from. It was Erika.
“I love your drawing!” She was referring to the chart.
One by one, my classmates gave interest to it and encouraged me to present each part. Their words were followed by my advisor’s generous comment that I earned half a point by my diligence in the science project and that I would get the rest if I share how I managed to create it. That was when my confusion was replaced with a more positive emotion. When was the last time I was recognized as a talented person in the community? The rest did not need to be explained. After my presentation ended, I received the loudest applause everywhere. Students...my teacher… all admiring me alike...I could forget what I was going through at home for a while. I was no longer a wallflower.
It was clear. My ability displayed greater and more everlasting effect on events I want than ordinary items.
If only I can use this to my advantage…!
September 10
I wasn’t able to write as many entries as before due to my school work. Fortunately, I am able to record this one as I have thought today’s experience was worth remembering.
Ever since my drawings resulted in long-running changes of my classmates and teachers’ characters, I noticed that I became closer to them--with some whom I can call best friends. What’s more, I could find that my school life was getting more enjoyable and helping me not to mind the tension surrounding my family. Yet, I never forgot Steven, the very first student who approached me voluntarily. Frequently, he was the one to help me when I was having difficulties understanding topics for our exams. When we were free, we would eat lunch together and share any topic which would be interesting to both of us. Once I thought that that was his original personality. That he was always a good guy who never discriminated against his friends by who they were. On the other hand, I was afraid that he would suddenly change his behavior towards me when the effect of my ability wears off. Whatever it was, I did not have a clear idea, but what was sure was that my friendship with him was getting deeper compared to the rest of my friends.
Was it because of that bond that I made such a “decision?”
The day was remarkably rainy. The sky was as gray as ashes, and the sound of the rain was enough to make anyone feel downgraded. Nevertheless, I managed to arrive at the school on time, and the first thing I did was to look for Steven. That was because I borrowed his notebook for assistance in terms of my assignment, and I promised to return it to him today. When I opened the door to his classroom, however, his seat was empty. How strange. He should be reading his new book by now. I asked a student nearby about his whereabouts.
“Steven? I saw him go out minutes ago. He looked awfully quiet,” she replied.
Where would he be? Oh, well. He must be busy. I put down his notebook on his desk and headed back to my classroom. But I did not take more than five steps when I spotted an unexpected sight.
On the other side of the hallway, there was the guy I was searching for, but something seemed bizarre about him. His face contained shadow and appeared gloomy, his signature smile nowhere to be seen. What surprised me more was his action of climbing the stairs to the rooftop. It was raining at the moment! What was wrong with him?
I quickly followed his steps and covered my face with my hands to see through the rain properly. Luckily, Steven was not difficult to find. He was just standing in front of the railings. He was just staring at the distance, oblivious of his wet body and clothes. I tapped his shoulder, asked him what was wrong and told him that I was worried if he might catch a cold.
“Sorry…” he refused, “I just want to be alone.”
“Then at least go back inside please. Look at yourself!”
“...I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t. He did not look fine at all. I ignored his reply and took off my jacket. I put it around him and brought him inside the building and to the nearby bench. He showed a sign of rejection at first but after that, he simply let me take control. Then I used my jacket as a towel and softly rubbed his drenched hair and uniform. Steven’s head was down and did not utter a single word.
When I was finished, I calmly asked him again what was going on in his head. What would make a guy like Steven depressed and powerless? I stayed by his side without further conversation. A minute passed...Then two...three… I did not know how much, but after some time, Steven began to whisper, followed by a sudden sob.
“I just...don’t like myself,” he sniffed.
I turned to him. Those words were something I never thought to come out from Steven at all. It was the first time he ever talked about how he saw himself. I let him continue.
“I caused my team to lose because I was not good at sports...Some guys ignored me just because I was not as strong or active as them...And...and…”
Tears began to stream down his cheeks.
“I disappointed my family…!”
“Wh--what do you mean?”
“I made them worry...because I was too quiet...could not socialize...could not study well...They must have thought something was wrong with me. They had their own concerns, but I exhausted them more. And now...they are going to be separate, and they told me I’m going to move to my aunt’s house when I graduate…”
I could not speak a word.
“They do not want me anymore. I am sure of it. Ah, I think I’m going to be a burden to my aunt, too…!”
I wanted to comfort him. Tell him that nothing was his fault. Tell him that he was one of the best people she ever met.
But I also knew that mere words don’t always cheer people up. In fact, they would sometimes result in more damages and be interpreted as a lack of sympathy. More importantly, they are not the ones to directly solve the problem. Still, I wished Steven to smile again. Of course, it might have been because of my ability, but he supported me to enjoy school in several ways that I wanted to do something for him as well.
...That’s right. My drawing.
I briefly recalled one of my wonderful incidents I had when I was an elementary student. It was when my neighbor lost her puppy and could not find him for months. With a simple wish to help her, I asked her how he looked and drew her finding him again, grasping the precious family member tightly. That miracle came true the next day, and up to now, I can remember her bright smile with joyful tears on her face. My drawing made her happy.
Can the similar thing happen to Steven?
An instant spark of brilliant ideas led me to ask Steven to share with me his family picture so that I can clearly remember how his parents look like. Then with a single intention of retrieving Steven’s joy, I drew a couple of sheets of Steven smiling and him spending good time with his family and friends.
September 11
Praying for my ability to work on Steven, I opened the door of his classroom and called him outside. He stared at me curiously, probably wondering the reason why I wanted to talk to him. So far, I could not read his emotions, but his face appeared better than before. If I was correct, his personal problem yesterday would be gone by now. I asked him if he was feeling alright.
Steven tilted his head with a confused look. It was as if he did not comprehend my question. Then he gave me an answer which I did not anticipate at all.
“What do you mean? I was sad? Crying?”
For seconds, I thought I was hallucinating. With a stutter, I repeated my question and explained his sadness and confession towards me about his view on himself and his family issues. Steven laughed and disregarded them as a joke.
“You must have had a weird dream about me,” he chuckled, “I’ve never thought about them at all. Nor my classmates. Besides, why would I have an issue with my parents?”
I wasn’t able to move an inch even after Steven went back to his classroom. Why was he acting that way? Was he the same guy who talked about the burden? It seemed like he forgot yesterday's event entirely. I don’t think my ability worked that way before.
What in the world happened to me?
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May ‘20
Prequel Story of Detective Saburo Jinguji - Daedalus: The Awakening of Golden Jazz
What a title. Ludicrous as it may seem, there is some value in closer observation though, as this is the same series that has previously reached the west under the ‘Jake Hunter’ name. This time however, it is labelled as ‘alternate’ Jake Hunter - so alternate that they’ve written an origin story and have taken to keeping the protagonist’s original ‘Saburo Jinguji’ name through to the English version. Sorry Jake, old boy.
It's still a story-driven title, one which has you jumping into Saburo’s shoes, back from Japan to New York to investigate his own grandfather’s murder. This has you revisiting the last case he’d been working, meeting with his friends and contacts, as well as catching up and reminiscing with pals from when you were last in the city. It's not too over-dramatic with its moment-to-moment story telling, and a lot of its bigger surprises are telegraphed a bit too openly, but the story is capable and enjoyable at least.
The visuals are quite unique, and are definitely one of the more noteworthy elements of the package. The environments appear to have been shot with a 360 degree camera, then filtered to shake out some of the detail. Characters sit on top of this as 2D cut-outs, stylised with distinctive but quite charmingly sketchy linework. It's not Rembrandt by a long shot, but at its better moments it does have a fairly unique, somewhat impressionistic look to it, while still providing the functionality to look around a scene fully for yourself.
Some of the rest of the design is much less effective; one example being the 'mind tree' - intended as a physical manifestation of deductions made, instead looking like alphabet soup. There’s a lot less thought in the audio stakes too - a lot of the tracks are not only re-used, but hinge on very short loops that permeate through a number of scenes without a concern for listener fatigue. The default volume for your button presses are bafflingly loud in the mix too, but at least this can be fixed from a visit to the options menu.
If the series were to continue and build on it, there's some decent foundations laid here. Some localisation issues - a number of very odd translation choices, and a space after every apostrophe being a particularly torturous error - and what is generally quite a brief and low-key story does leave this a little flat though.
The Missing: J. J. Macfield and the Island of Memories
I swear I’m not picking games to play based on ridiculously long names, but here we are. SWERY is a designer who's very quickly established himself and his own voice in game-making, and even in what's arguably a more confined genre, he's still found plenty of opportunity to bring buckets of personality.
While a platform game at heart, it's more puzzle-based than anything - think more Abe's Odyssey or Flashback, rather than Sonic the Hedgehog. There’s a very striking duality to it too; conversation threads managed through your phone paint the picture of your character as a normal girl interacting with her friends, family, and tutors, whereas the gameplay in the forefront sets about immediately to paint a more nightmarish, decidedly macabre relationship with the world around her. There's a pretty serious story underpinning all of this which develops as these two worlds converge, and although it does remain fairly abstract, it does warrant a cautionary note. As J.J, the consequences you suffer are brutal, but not just when you fail, rather as mandatory puzzle-solving tools. Being electrocuted, burnt, dismembered and the like are necessary steps in precise sequences you need to execute perfectly to proceed. Perform one step incorrectly - which you will - and it's back to the start to repeat the self-abuse all while enduring its accompanying screams and suffering.
It's a surprising and thoughtful game - certainly a lot deeper than you might assume from a cursory glance at it - and although not an unreserved recommendation, is definitely a standout title in terms of ambition to do something different.
The Stretchers
There is something very strange to me about a Nintendo-published game having such a quiet reception. I remember The Stretchers cropping up on a Nintendo Direct one time, but aside from that I feel like there's little noise being made about this, when it's the kind of charming, family-friendly, couch co-op game that perfectly fills a space in the Switch's library.
You can, like me, an idiot, play this game through in single player. Your two paramedics are controlled by each side of a single controller, making this the perfect game for those who love to pat their hat and rub their belly simultaneously. Things may start easy enough, and even when the challenge ramps up, it's imposed more through diminished rewards rather than hard stops. But what I imagine to be a much more sensible option is the two-player setup, where each player takes on the role of one paramedic, and the challenge of co-ordination becomes more about talking, and I assume, mind-reading. The same relationship-ruining potential from Overcooked is here in spades.
In short, there's a hokey villain going about town, using his inventions to confuse people and have them lie about in a daze, and your typical assignment has you drive to a location, avoid various obstacles, load folks up on your stretcher, and cart them back to the hospital for fixing up. It'd perhaps be a serious affair, if the ambulance didn't handle like something out of Crazy Taxi, the obstacles weren't total slapstick, and every mission isn't bookended with your radio handler dropping puns like a writer's room full of dad joke enthusiasts.
In short, it's a lot of fun. If you have someone to play this with, you should.
A Short Hike
Just as with any kind of media, wider context is important when talking about games. This might not be the place to deep dive on the state of the world right now, but I feel a fair summary is that 2020 hasn't been a great year for many of us humans. Playing it today, A Short Hike feels like the right game for a wrong time.
It sees you taking a break on an island where your aunt works, and many other people (read: animals) visit, whether it's to paint, make sandcastles, or even run a race. The one thing you're missing - mobile phone signal - may come across a little incongruous from this idyllic getaway, but don't worry about that for now, and instead just let it do its simple job of pointing you to the mountain atop the island. Exploring various nooks and crannies, meeting people, and helping them along their way grants golden feathers which in turn allows you to traverse further - jumping more, climbing higher. More poignantly, they'll also have charmingly open little snippets of conversation to share with you. It's a really beautiful little microcosm of positivity - carrying the kind of whimsy that I imagine folks similarly look to the likes of Animal Crossing for. It's not a long or particularly arduous affair, but the struggle in making it to the top of the mountain, and the little celebrations I enjoyed on the way back down were the kind of life affirming shot in the arm that I didn't even realise I needed.
Dragon Quest
Yes, that one. It's probably important to state up front that I played the Switch version, as it's pretty clear that there are a lot of efforts in the name of modernisation which are more likely to upset fans than please them. Environment art has remained in its original format, whereas your character has shirked his pixelised warts in favour of a HD paint-over, for instance. There's a pretty obvious clash as a result, but at the same time, if you've never played it before and don't have a chip on your shoulder about accuracy, you may find this totally serviceable. Giving us nice HD enemy sprites may even make this an upgrade, even. So, I'll leave the comparisons for those who care enough to research them elsewhere, and instead let's talk about the game.
For something that's nearly as old as me, what feels like the biggest note to lead with is that with expectations set appropriately, it's still very good, and very playable. While a lot of important RPG standards weren't set till years after it, there are plenty of others which were likely quite groundbreaking as they stood here. I may be somewhat speculative on exact details there, rather than having the complete history of the genre mapped out - particularly given this is a revised edition - but I hope you can let that slide. So yes, a single party member with no personality to speak of following a very linear series of events may not be what folks expect today, but if you can understand that things happen over time, then there's a perfectly functional, plenty charming turn-based RPG at the heart of it.
Talking to NPCs might not be everyone's favourite favourite way to while away time, but once you realise they often tell you things of value and aren't just padding things out, you soon start to re-acquaint yourself with these less bombastic rhythms. Being far more vocal than your own character, this more recent translation has been given room for these village-dwelling NPCs to take on a bit of character too. The attempts at aping certain dialects may raise a smile, but similarly might frustrate if you're approaching this with English not being your mother tongue. Back-tracking and moving about the world is relatively painless, mainly on account of spells that do just that, and though yes, you'll likely need a spot of grinding here and there along the way, it's still short enough (about ten hours) to never get too arduous.
Thinking about the first games I played, then the first RPGs of this nature, when I played them, their relative levels of sophistication... it all highlights to me just how special this would have been to anyone who was there for this all the way back in '86. The start of an empire for good reason.
Dragon Quest II
... and here comes the sequel. The same pre-amble applies here; I don't really have the frame of reference to talk about pros and cons of the port here, so I'll be trying my best to think around that instead.
Straight off the bat though, you notice a lot of the big changes are incremental. Rather than one hero, you set out with three. Rather than fighting enemies one at a time, why not a whole handful? Dragon Quest ++ could be just as apt a title, particularly given the big change with the make-up of your party is the distribution of roles (the internet informs me this is the only DQ game where your main character has no spell casting capability) rather than the introduction of actual characterisation. That's not to say it's not lacking in charm - by jove guv'na, there's more of this bleedin' accent bizniss - along with Akira Toriyama's still-strong menagerie of monster designs.
It's a little bit longer, quite a bit bigger - heck - you even need a boat to get around it. Given the story is a continuation of the first game, albeit years later, there's even the opportunity to revisit areas from the old game on top of all of the new. This may all make things sound boring or derivative, but no, let's not get away from the fact that this is still plenty competent and enjoyable. The series may not have blossomed fully yet, but it's still an improved version of an already enjoyable game.
Dragon Quest III
Ok, NOW we're talking. Going between these games in a short space of time allows for some pretty conveniently direct comparisons - though I'm sure in future it'll also frustratingly blend them all together in my head too. Despite this, the jump between titles here is far more significant, and in almost every way for the better. That generational leap into 16 bit territory does wonders on all fronts; treating you to a slick intro (complete with graphics!), bigger and more detailed environments with a night/day cycle, more distinguished instrumentation in the soundtrack, and the doors blown wide open for the game to deliver a much bigger and less linear journey through the story.
The class system has seen a major upgrade too, and while you have autonomy on the makeup of your party, as well as the ability to later on mix and match abilities to make some wicked powerful allies, there is still the slightly disappointing note that as a result, these are total nobodies as far as the story goes. But overall things are just so much better; the game is much longer, yes, but it's also got so much more breathing space for there to be variation in how you tackle things and in what order. Minor discoveries and secrets can be found that are now just far enough off the given path that they do actually feel special. Personally, I've a huge sense of nostalgia for this era of games, and to tap into one that I missed at the time, and to still find it quite so fresh, was a pretty great feeling. Before anyone asks: no, I'm not playing DQ IV any time soon.
Blazing Chrome
Let's start by being nice and labelling Blazing Chrome as a homage. If you've played the Contra games of the 90s, you'll recognise this very quickly, and in fairness to the game, it's not as if they're trying very hard to hide it either. The first level is a particularly unsubtle attempt to ape the opener from Contra Spirits, that unfortunately felt off by just enough for it to throw me. Out of necessity the sprites are bigger and more detailed, but the stage itself doesn't tap into the essence of its inspiration quite so well, rather decidedly plain and restricted. Later stages thankfully get a bit (not much) more colourful and ambitious.
Contra's never been famous for its ease, and here the moment-to-moment is just as merciless. Reckless play is punished quickly, and knowing what's coming is an advantage, but still one that's easily squandered if you don't time things quite right. So yes, your stock of lives is very easily depleted, yet the continue mechanism to balance this is overly generous - bringing you back to a recent checkpoint rather than pushing you to crack the level in one shot. Assuming you're willing to put aside that shameful credit-feeding chip on the shoulder, the game ends up being tackled in small sections, which although cheap, can still be quite tough in the later sections.
It clearly likes Contra's set pieces too - there's a few biking sections, some vertical auto-scrolling, a pseudo-3D on-rails bit - and while they're not all quite as enjoyable as one another, they're all reasonable enough distractions. It's clearly operating within guidelines not to do anything too fancy that doesn't fit its 16 bit aesthetic, but it also likes trying to replicate the moments and their graphical techniques that made games at the time special - bosses swoop by in full 'Mode7' style, and speeding through stages on a bike is accented by parallax-scrolled landscapes whizzing by in the background.
It's a fun, short game to breeze through that does perhaps lean a bit too hard on nostalgia to get the most out of it. Crucially, it's not as good as the titles it apes either, but it does serve as a convenient reminder of why they're great.
Cytus α
Good rhythm games tend to be fairly openly structured - play what you want, maybe get better at them, have fun. It's a core loop that can make good ones particularly addictive, and it's also why I find myself so dismissive of new ones that don't do anything inventive, or improve what's already out there. In this case, sorry, I'd sooner be playing Ouendan (or Elite Beat Agents).
In fairness to Cytus, I've done it a total disservice by playing with a controller, rather than undocking the Switch and tapping the screen as it so clearly intends - a bar would move up and down the screen in metronomic fashion, with the player tapping and dragging at circles rhythmically as they overlap. Whereas in my defence, I didn't fancy inflicting such intensive jabbing at the system, nor was the game ever particularly up-front about how it'd intended for me to play. Music choices are obviously entirely subjective, so I'll just settle for saying it's got a reasonable range of tracks that cater most regularly for electronic, dance-y numbers, that grabbed me rarely. It does borrow some music I knew I enjoyed from DJ Max - which seemed a good in-road, but sadly just highlighted it again; I'd rather be playing these songs in a different game. There's also a very in-depth but totally ridiculous story about AIs that I tuned out from in record time, but it does make for some neat key art that reminds me of the video to Bjork's 'All is Full of Love'. The actual UI sticks to a fairly minimal and monochrome theme, but during songs you're left with little more than a washed out background image while you play. It shouldn't be, and isn't important, but it's just another slightly lacking aspect of the game.
I've also still not found time yet for Voez or Deemo. Sorry, Rayark.
The Red Strings Club
Cyber-punky, drinks-serving talk 'em up. My mind expected VA11-HALL-A, and while they both do a great job serving up a tonne of cool-as-heck atmosphere, it's a much less passive ride here. There's some beautiful music; somewhat jazzy but sombre as heck piano scores the opening perfectly, but rather than just letting these moods wash over you too long, Red Strings Club drags you quickly in. The cyberpunk themes may not be anything new - a body-modifying big corporate is looking to modify existing products and over-extend its reach in the hope of enhancing human happiness - but it services the story as a backdrop quite neatly.
As a short game with a considered cast of characters, the fact you step into the shoes as a number of them as the story moves on allows for a very direct presentation of cause and effect. There's set pieces that are impactful, and real successes and losses to experience within them that weigh heavy as you carry on through. Donavan, the informant-slash-bartender, serves drinks that align to, and send his patrons down a particular emotional route. Make them feel a certain way, and they may get loose lips on certain topics - or they might shut up entirely. The game does a great job of drawing you into these conversations, giving you real cause to stop and think, highlighted in particular when you're then grilled afterwards to see just how much you grasped about them. Not just whether you understood the information exchange at face level, but also the sub-text of how they felt towards you, what's driving them, who they trust, and so on. At another point, a particular line of conversation steered into one character playing devil's advocate on one issue to the point that they ended up labelling my answers as being hypocritical - and damnit, they weren't wrong. Being both insulted and charmed at the same time was a strange feeling.
The story does a lot in such a short space of time, and is particularly rewarding given there were so many clear branching paths along the way. Somewhere between buying this and starting to play it, I forgot that it was from the team responsible for Gods Will Be Watching. I originally wrote a bit about that in 2016, and while flawed, it stayed with me as something I really enjoyed long after I sat down with it. I'm really pleased with this as their next move - it's just as considered and thoughtful, but without the balls-hard outer layer to bounce off. I think it's pretty special. Bravo.
#saburo jinguji#daedalus#the missing#j. j. macfield and the island of memories#the stretchers#a short hike#dragon quest#dragon quest 2#dragon quest 3#blazing chrome#cytus α#the red strings club
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SasuSaku Month - Day 15: The Slug and the Snake || [Fanfic] Till Death Do Us Part
Title: Till Death Do Us Part
Rating: T/PG-13
Notes: Sorry to keep you waiting, but at last, the final chapter is here ^^ It’s sad but at the same time accomplishing because it’s the first time that I finish a multi-chaptered story and that I write so much in such amount of time.
The notes are a bit long this time, but I’d like you to read them, since they can be useful.
This time, the prompt is symbolic. Looking for information for my next story (that hopefully will use some of the prompts I still haven’t done) I found on a book about Japanese Mythology that the snake, among other things, symbolises lust. Imagine the possibilities that opened in my mind at that moment *grin* Regarding the slug, the only thing I could find was the healing power, so Sakura gets stuck in the medical field once again.
I decided that both their names are written in kanji, since both of them belong to old families (I haven’t seen any examples of this written in hiragana/katakana, like in the manga). For those who feel curious… 団扇 佐助 // 春野桜 (I know that in Sasuke’s case those are the kanji for “uchiwa“, but… ^^U)
The events described in the fanfic are my impressions after watching several videos and reading about the topic. There will be mistakes, of course, so I apologise in advance.
Be aware that the rating has gone up. There’s nothing really explicit but you’ll know what’s happening. If I labelled it incorrectly, please don’t hesitate to tell me. Since a few years, the rating system has been a mess. I’ve found really strong things under the M/R and even the T/PG-13 tags and really innocent ones under T/PG-13 so, I’m more or less following my instinct.
Thanks to the lovely @isa-chi who put up with my ramblings and my frustration, and advised me on a couple of topics especially related to OOC. And also to all the people who read it, sent messages, liked, reblogged and followed me, waiting patiently for updates. You don’t know how happy each of those single things made me. And thank you to @sasusakumonths for organising it. It’s been really fun ♡
As always, if there’s something wrong (spaces, brackets…), please, tell me. I hope you enjoy this final instalment :)
Glossary: I’ve tried to keep the Japanese terms to a minimum, though some things are not accurately translated
-uchikake: the bridal kimono. It can be white (the most common used for the ceremony) or with colours (normally used for the celebration). it’s much more heavier than a normal kimono, and it’s tied differently too.
-onigiri: riceball
-nori: the seaweed that is wrapped around the onigiri
Words: 7339
.
TILL DEATH DO US PART
Drinking a sip of her coffee, Sakura observed as Sasuke started to complete their marriage form, the pen in his right hand tracing the kanji of his full name slowly, as if he feared to make a mistake. They had decided to fill it and take it to the Ward Office together so, early in the morning, Sakura had gone to his apartment carrying the documents she would need.
Finally, the day had come. After their engagement, as soon as Sasuke had recovered, they had visited each family to announce that they were getting married. She still remembered the satisfaction in her grandmother’s eyes as Sasuke bowed to ask permission to her and her parents to marry her. At the beginning, she had felt a bit offended. It was as if Chiyo was telling her that she had caught the prized candidate when that had been the last thing on her mind practically from the beginning. However, later that night as she made her way to the kitchen for a snack before going to bed, she found her kneeling in front of the altar dedicated to her late grandfather, talking lovingly to him about the happiness she felt because her granddaughter had found a wonderful man, that she had seen in his eyes how much he loved her; reminiscing the time when they had met and how love had grown between them in the same way as in the young couple; that now she understood why they had taken their time to made their decision. And her heart had gone to the old lady who still mourned the death of his dear husband.
In the Uchiha clan’s house, things had not been very different. As Sasuke did, she had tried to ignore the whispers she heard about how pleased the elders were that the second son of the main branch had attained to such a wonderful heiress. Though, she had to say that his closest family had been truly happy for him as they wished them happiness.
“Sakura,” Sasuke’s voice, a bit disgruntled, reached her. “Are you listening to me?”
With a jolt, she looked at her fiancée, who was watching her with a delicate crease in his brows. He sighed.
“Obviously, not.”
“Sorry, Sasuke-kun… I had something on my mind…”
“I saw…” he smirked lightly. “Last minute jitters?”
She pouted, her eyes flashing defiantly.
“Of course not!”
He moved his head to the sides, a gesture that Sakura interpreted as mocking resignation, and then, he handed her the ball point.
“I’m finished.”
For a moment, she seemed to find fascination even in the action of him giving her that pen and she exhaled, exasperated at herself. She was too absent-minded that morning. She took it and with precise strokes, she wrote the information needed and took her family stamp to seal the document.
“Alright” Sasuke said standing up and putting the form inside the folder with his documents. “Let’s go. Today we have a very busy day ahead.”
Sakura looked at his retreating form for a moment before rising from her seat. It was the first time since they had met that she saw him in such informal clothes. It was summer, so he was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and white jeans. She could not help swoon a little. That man, who she had seen attract the attention of women without doing anything special wherever he went, was going to be hers from that day on.
“What’s with you today?” he was already in the hall, with his deck shoes on and one hand on his waist, looking at her with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Are you feeling well?”
“Yes!” she walked quickly to his side and put her cream-coloured sandals on, “I’m just a bit distracted.”
“Why?” he asked, checking that he had the keys for the house and the car in his pockets.
“Well” she put her hands behind her back and looked at the flat somewhat wistfully. “Today is a very important day… And, this will be my house from now on…” he looked at her with slightly widened eyes. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit melancholic apart from the usual nervousness…”
Sasuke’s features became warmer and he put a hand on her head, stroking it affectionally.
“Come on…”
.
They arrived at the Ward Office a few minutes after it had opened and finished with the last procedures quickly.
“The certificate will be available in two days” the friendly clerk at the desk told them. “Congratulations on your marriage.”
They thanked him and went back, Sasuke looking at his watch. Fortunately, it had taken less time than they had thought, so there would not be any delays in the tight schedule that they had that day. After his collapse, they had become very busy with their works and the wedding arrangements, but he had been careful not to cross the line again, especially with Sakura, Ino, Itachi and Naruto checking on him every day. The last few weeks, however, he had tried to do as much as possible to be able to clear those three days, from that one to the end of the week, for the wedding and an extremely short honeymoon that they had decided to spend mainly at home after the stressful preparations. They would have time for a proper wedding trip later on.
As they came out, they stopped and looked at each other, smiling. Even if they called off the shrine ceremony and all the events that were taking place in a few hours, they were now officially husband and wife.
Sasuke grabbed her hand with a satisfied expression on his face and started walking toward the car, she following him swiftly. But she could not help looking over her shoulder towards the entrance of the Office, swallowing hard and feeling a sudden rush of emotion. She had entered there being Haruno Sakura, and though nothing special had happened, a different person had come out. From that moment on, she was Uchiha Sakura.
.
“… Going forward, we’ll love each other, trust one another, share the good times and the bad and swear that this will stay unchanged throughout our lifetime.”
Sakura’s hands trembled slightly listening to Sasuke take their wedding vow before the gods in the shrine that his clan belonged to, as they held the paper where it was written. His voice, clear and steady was a reflection of his resolution to honour that promise.
“Husband, Uchiha Sasuke”
Despite her agitation, she breathed deeply, wanting to answer with the same conviction as him.
“Wife: Sakura”
Sasuke folded the paper again and left it carefully on the reclining set before them, stealing a glance at his bride. She had her head tilted down and he could only see her lips, painted in a rich shade of red, under the cotton hat she wore for the ceremony. To say that she was beautiful in her wedding kimono was not enough compliment. He had literally stopped breathing when he had seen her clad in the beautiful white uchikake embroidered with cranes and flowers that, as she had told him before while planning the wedding, had belonged to her family for years as her grandmother and her mother had worn it before her.
The Shinto priest, then, brought a tray with a box and offered it to Sasuke. He took the wedding ring with great care and offered her his other hand. She lifted hers, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and he took it as he put the ring on her finger. Sakura realised that he was trembling a bit and she lifted her face to him. What she saw stole her breath away. Maybe it was not the most beautiful smile of the world, but the one that graced Sasuke’s lips at that moment was radiant with content and tenderness. Sakura’s eyes filled with tears and she would have ended up crying if the priest had not put the tray in front of her. Swallowing hard and clenching her teeth to control herself, feeling relieved that with the hat she wore no one could notice her moment of weakness, she picked up the other ring. He extended his hand and slowly, feeling as if her heart could burst from all the happiness she was feeling, she put it on his finger.
.
“Ready?” one of the women dressed formally who were at the door of the reception hall looked at Sasuke and Sakura, and they nodded.
The double door opened and they entered the room, their guests clapping enthusiastically. Sakura had changed some of her clothes. She had taken off the hat and now wore her hair in a modest bun adorned with traditional hairpins, and had changed her white uchikake for another colourful one which belonged to Sasuke’s family.
They arrived at their table and bowed to the guests. Just then, the waiters and waitresses came out of a door and started filling their glasses while the host told the people they were going to toast to the groom and the bride.
Soon after, the food was served and the speeches began. One by one, their kindergarten teacher, Kakashi, their professors at university, Tsunade, as her mentor, and Itachi, as Sasuke’s superior, told anecdotes about the years spent with them.
Then, Naruto went up the platform and Sasuke felt himself cringe. They had gone through a lot together, good things and bad ones and their bond was practically unbreakable, but also, his best friend was aware of all his failures and most embarrassing moments, and though he was completely sure that he could trust him with his life, he also knew that sometimes, he talked too much. He could not help having a bad feeling about it.
.
“They make a fine couple, don’t you think, Madara-san?”
The man, with his arm crossed on his chest, nodded as he watched Sasuke and Sakura listen to his best friend, Naruto, give a speech which made people laugh and clap, as he talked about some of the moments they had lived together.
“I have to confess that, at the beginning, I was quite sceptical about your suggestion of arranging for them to meet, Chiyo-san” he said with a small smile, very similar to Sasuke’s. “I thought that you desired someone in the medical field for the future heiress of your legacy. Someone who doesn’t have any knowledge, like my grandson, is not going to be of great help.”
“I understood soon enough that my granddaughter didn’t need a husband like that. She’s extraordinarily intelligent and a brilliant doctor; after all, she’s trained under the famous physician Senju Tsunade” she said sparing a fleeting glance towards the renowned doctor, sitting at a table not far from theirs. “Any man in the same field of expertise would feel intimidated by her, even resentful. And, despite being burdened by responsibility and tradition, I love my granddaughter and I was not going to get her into a marriage where she would end up suffering. However, Sasuke-san can lend his support in other ways. Financially, of course, but also he can offer her advice based on his experience. A hospital chairman is a doctor and a business person at the same time.”
“You had your plans well laid” he smirked. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, not all of them” she folded her hands on her lap. “I hoped that, being young, they would grow some affection for each other with time. However, my wish became true much earlier. It is obvious that Sasuke-san cares deeply for my granddaughter, and sincerely, I could not ask for more.”
.
“Honestly I even thought once that he would never marry” Naruto continued his speech. “He’s got a weird personality and he sometimes doesn’t talk, probably thinking he’s so cool. Also, he can be really arrogant and a bit twisted, but he’s the best man I’ve ever met in my life. Sakura-chan, I know he’s a hassle and a pig head, as you probably noticed a few months ago when he fell ill, but, please, take care of him. I’m sure you two are going to be the happiest couple in the world” he made a victory sign. “After Hinata-chan and me, of course.”
People laughed as they clapped and Naruto went back to his seat. Then, as the host announced the next speech, Sasuke took a sip of his drink, relieved. Apart from some comments, like the last ones, about his character, and that he had talked about the first time he had got drunk, things had not gone so bad.
The hall became darker as Ino took her place behind the microphone.
“Good afternoon. I’m Yamanaka Ino and I have the fortune of knowing this two people for years. But today, I’m not going to talk as Uchiha Sasuke’s secretary, but as Sakura’s friend” she paused for a moment to look at her notes. “Sakura and I met in the first year of elementary school, when we ended up in the same classroom, sitting one behind the other. As you see, we have a long story together…”
A soft music started playing and they all turned to a screen located over the main door, where a video started to show. It displayed photographs of the two girls since their childhood: school events, festivals, graduations, parties… Ino had a memory for each of those moments, which people laughed about or had to dab at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Finally, the video ended with the two of them laughing at the entrance of the Todai University, the day of Sakura’s graduation.
“When she told me that her omiai partner was the President I work for, I was a bit wary because I discovered then that I was linked to both, and it was going to be uncomfortable if one of them felt hurt in case that there was a rejection. But when she said they were getting married, I was really glad.” she turned to the couple. “President, the only thing I’m going to ask of you in this life is to make her happy. Despite our arguments and differences in many things, she’s one of the people I love the most and, forgive me for my impertinence, I’d hate you if you made her suffer her. Congratulations…” she inhaled, trying to hold back her tears. “And stop crying, Forehead!
She bowed and Sakura felt the strong urge to run to her best friend and hug her. However, she had to repress it, since it was not the moment and with her clothes she would probably make a fool of herself, so she restricted herself to watch Ino coming down the platform and going straight to her seat, trying to hold her tears. She had to remember to hold her tight the next time she saw her.
“Are you fine?” Sai whispered putting an arm around Ino’s shoulders so she could lean her head on his shoulder, not caring about maintaining the appearances or the curious looks they were receiving.
She nodded and he dropped a soft kiss on her head.
“Good…” he paused for a moment. “Did you finally graduate from him?”
She nodded again and he could not help the smile that drew across his lips, relief washing over him. His heart filled with content at knowing that Ino was now completely and truly his, as he realised that a very small part of him that had been well hidden deep inside, had been really unhappy and jealous. Maybe, it was time for them to start thinking about tying the knot too.
Sasuke stood up, after a few moments. It was time for the groom speech. However, he did not move, he just looked at Sakura that smiled, carefully rising from her chair too. They were going to break the rules a bit. There was a soft surprised humming as the guests saw that both of them moved to the microphone, the expectation hanging in the air heavily.
He took a small slip of paper from the folds of his kimono and opened it, drawing in a soft breath. He was used to speaking in public, to weave his way and opinions without any doubts to business partners, directors and associates. However, he had never been good at expressing his emotions, at telling the people he cared for his feelings. His heart had been closed for many years after he had understood his position in his family and what they expected of him. His life no longer belonged to him, but to the clan. But that did not mean that he had become cold or had stopped loving them. That speech had taken him a lot of time to write, carefully choosing his words, rewriting once and again what he wanted to say. He only hoped he had been able to convey his thoughts in his words.
“Thank you to all of you for coming today and share with us this joyous event despite your busy schedules…” after the standard greeting, he breathed again. “When I was five, my life changed completely. From being a carefree child, I became someone who would have an important role in the future of his clan, and though, as a boy, could not see farther than my own selfishness, getting angry because things were not the same anymore, my family’s guidance and affection helped me to take the correct choices in life. I am what I am thanks to my father, who taught me the value of working hard, having perseverance and taking pride in my origins, my mother, warm and caring, but also stern when she had to be, and my brother who protected and comforted me as a child, and is someone I look up to every day” he glanced at Sakura. “Today, my wife and I are starting a new life. We are inexperienced in many things and we will probably stumble from time to time. I hope that you can continue watching over us the same as you have done for me up to now” he turned to Sakura. “Our beginning was difficult and we were unsure and full of doubts, and we have been through difficult moments. However, despite not being married, not even engaged, you were beside me during that time, strong and steadfast. Thank you, Sakura-san. I hope that in the years to come, I can be your support as you have been, and are, mine.”
He bowed, and Sakura had to bite her lower lip hard to contain her tears. When he lifted his head and saw her efforts, he took his handkerchief from his kimono and gave it to her with a tender smile that made those who saw it stare in awe. Sakura took a deep breath and straightened. Turning to their guests, she nodded.
“I’m sorry…”
Then, Sasuke took a step back to let her take his place. She took a paper from her obi and unfolded it. Breathing once more, she started reading.
“Thank you for being with us on such an important day in our lives” she inhaled again, calming herself, her voice becoming more confident. “I have always been aware of my role in life, and I embraced it enthusiastically since I was a little girl. I come from a family of doctors and I saw like a natural thing that I would become one in the future. I am one now. However, it’s not my merit alone. I had, along the way up to now, three wonderful people, my grandmother, my father and my mother, who were an example and my inspiration for all I wanted to achieve and I have been fortunate to count on their support and their advice in the steps I have taken along the way.” she paused for a moment. “Even though an omiai can be a very difficult event nowadays, when life offers us so many possibilities and ideas, I’m very glad to have followed my grandmother’s counsel and gone through it, because I met someone who has become very important for me” she tilted her head and looked at him. “Sasuke-san, let’s walk together this path that we have started today and build a household of our own following the example of the people who had surrounded and cherished us until this moment. I am sure that they will continue offering us their encouragement and love. As for us, as in all journeys, we will probably have good times and also encounter difficulties in our marriage. I want to be able to enjoy the first ones and solve little by little the second ones together with you, till death do us part.”
She gave a step backwards and together with her husband, she bowed to the guests, who were clapping and some of them crying openly. They could even hear one or two cheers from their louder friends. Then, two assistants gave them bouquets of flowers, and they made their way to the back, where their families were awaiting them. They bowed respectfully and then, gave the flowers to their mothers. Mikoto had a hard time controlling her tears, deeply moved because her younger child had never said what he truly felt since he was small and Fugaku put his hand on his back, smiling proudly at the respectable man that his son had become.
“Thank you…”
A tear fell down Sakura’s mother as she took the flowers from her daughter, who held her hand affectionately.
When they stepped aside instead of posing for a photograph, all the people in the hall held their breath again, expectant. Both of them approached the table nearest the place where their parents were, and the assistant gave her a second bouquet that she gave to her grandmother.
“Grandmother…” the old lady took it a bit disconcerted. “I know that you’re not in favour of breaking traditions and protocol, but it’s thanks to you that we’re here today. Sasuke-kun and I wanted to give you this.”
Chiyo blushed a bit.
“But it was Madara-san’s idea too…”
“But we can’t give him flowers, can we?” she said with a smile.
Then, she straightened and turned to his grandfather, bowing again.
“Thank you.”
.
Sasuke sighed as he adjusted his grey tie watching his reflection in the full-length mirror before letting one of the assistants help him with the frock coat. Despite liking kimonos quite a lot, he was definitely much more comfortable with those clothes, so similar to his everyday ones. He took the gloves and, nodding to the assistants, came out of the changing room. He walked along the corridor to where Sakura’s door was, ready to wait.
After the photographs with their family, they had gone out of the hall for a change of clothes. As they were planning the wedding, he had asked Sakura if she did not want to wear one of those big white Western wedding dresses that Japanese women dreamt of. Though her answer had been somewhat vague saying that it had been a little girl’s fantasy, he had realised that she still (tenía la ilusión). And he had finally managed to convince her to do it. Though they belonged to old families and they were going to follow tradition to the end, the wedding was theirs, and they could allow themselves a whim. Like the one with their grandparents. He had been surprised when he had learnt that his grandfather had played an important role in their omiai, despite being all Sakura’s grandmother idea. And when she had asked him if he minded that she paid a little homage to her, he had thought it would be nice to thank the patriarch of the clan too.
He was looking out of one of the windows on the wall opposite her room when he heard the door behind him open, and he turned. The sight left him breathless. Sakura was at the door, being helped by her assistants, and she was looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hope. She was wearing a beautiful empire style wedding dress with sleeves that only covered her shoulders, a bodice decorated with small pearls and a flowing skirt with two layers embroidered with lace. Her hair was tied in a side bun on the left side of her head framed by some organza lotus flowers.
“Oh, the groom” one of the assistants said with a smile. “We hope you are pleased with the bride’s look.”
He felt a knot in his throat. He wanted to say something and make her happy, it was obvious that she was expecting him to do it, but he just could not do it; not with those strangers listening and the people near the reception hall door waiting. If one day he complimented her, he wanted it to be for her alone.
Sakura smiled softly, as if she could sense his inner conflict and, turning to her helpers, she thanked them. Then, she approached her handsome husband, who was still looking at her with admiration, and took him by the arm. He did not need words to say what she wanted to know.
“Come on, Sasuke-kun” Sakura started walking towards the hall, changing the topic. “We still have a cake to cut and many greetings to give” he groaned a bit and she smiled widely. “And the after-party, let’s not forget about that!”
He chuckled lightly, letting her drag him away from the women who had put him in a predicament, calming down with her chatting. And he decided to follow her cue teasing her a bit.
“So, your intention from the beginning was to kill your groom of exhaustion and become a widow on your first day of marriage…?”
.
“What a day, um?” Sakura said with a sigh as she looked at Sasuke’s back, who was busy in the kitchen.
They had arrived at their flat a few minutes before, completely spent after the after-party with their friends and younger members of their families, where they had been drinking and playing games. However, neither in the reception nor that gathering they had been able to eat much so they had just been finishing taking off their shoes when Sasuke’s stomach had made a rumbling sound that had made her start laughing. He had shown her an irritated expression and had called her annoying but it was difficult to take his soreness seriously seeing the blush that adorned his cheeks.
After he had taken revenge tapping her on the head lightly and she had calmed down, he had suggested an early dinner and they had entered the kitchen. However, as she was asking him for an apron, he had taken her by the shoulders and sat her down on a stool, alleging that she had to be more tired than him, since her efforts during the wedding had been greater.
He made a sound of assertion as his hands took another scoop of rice and moulded it like an onigiri that he put on a plate.
“Are you going to wear that for the rest of the day?” he asked looking over his shoulder, clearly referring to her wedding dress.
“Of course!” she said with a childish smile, lifting her legs and wriggling her toes. “I really love it and it was very expensive, so the least I can do is enjoy it as much as possible” he chuckled lightly as he bent, opening a cabinet on his right and picking up a wooden board to cut the nori for the onigiri. “I’m thinking I could have it altered and have a new dress for any event that we have to attend.”
“It’s a good idea” he spared a brief glance at his grey frock coat, neatly folded on a chair near her. “Maybe I could do the s- Ouch!”
Instinctively, Sakura stood and rushed to his slightly crouched figure. He had his finger in his mouth, a mixture of pain and annoyance marring his face.
“Let me see” she commanded him with a professional tone, taking his hand and inspecting the cut.
Fortunately, it was not very deep but some thick drops of blood were running down his finger.
“Where’s the first-aid kit?”
“In that cupboard”
She put his finger under water from the sink tap and went to retrieve it. Looking for some bandages, she took his finger and inspected it again before pressing firmly to cut the bleeding. She guided him to the stool where she had been sitting and smiled softly to him as she lifted the gauze to take a better look at the little wound. After a few more minutes of pressure, she picked up another piece of cloth and dabbed at the cut delicately with some antibiotics cream she had found. Finally, she put a plaster on it.
“There, almost healed. Keep it covered for two day-” she brought her hand to her mouth. “Sorry… It’s the habit…”
“Thank you” he shook his head once, not really minding her doctor side showing.
She smiled as she put everything back in the kit and put it in the same cupboard.
“And now, let me finish dinner, okay? It’s better if you don’t get that cut dirty” she looked at the drawers on her left pensively. “And, it’s better if I get used to things here soon.”
He smiled, feeling inwardly happy.
“Second drawer.”
.
An hour later, Sakura heard Sasuke’s footsteps behind her and she turned in time for him to offer her a cup of tea. She smiled thankfully and he sat down next to her, giving a sip to his drink. They were sitting on the sofa in the living room watching the landscape, after enjoying dinner. As that night many months ago, they had turned it so it faced the large window, hearing the muffled sounds that came from the street and watching the sun sink slowly behind the buildings in a comfortable silence. Little by little the living room became darker.
“Give me your cup” Sasuke said standing up and going to the kitchen to leave them on the sink.
When he came back, he sat beside her again, looking at the rays of the sun reflected on the glass of the buildings near theirs and the light of the cars that went up the street opposite them, travelling in precise order. Absentmindedly, he took her hand in his, caressing the back with his thumb for a few minutes, and she answered to his touch squeezing it lightly. When he felt the roughness of the stones, he looked down and watched for a moment the two rings on her finger, playing with them lightly with his index. Then, he brought it to his lips and kissed it reverently, closing his eyes briefly.
When he opened his lids, slowly, he found her gaze on him, full of tenderness, and a soft smile on her lips. He leant forward and she met him halfway. It was a simple, lingering brushing of their mouths but it made them giddy with emotion and filled their hearts with happiness.
The first kiss of their married life.
They parted after a few moments and looked at each other, smiling softly. Then, Sasuke touched her forehead with his, and she laughed a bit.
“Are you happy?”
“Yes…” his smile widened a bit and she looked at him. “And you…?”
As a reply, he cupped her cheek with one hand, brushing her skin with his thumb. Sometimes, he felt so useless for not being able to express what was truly in his heart openly, to tell her all she wanted and needed to hear. She deserved so much to listen to them… However, his reserved character, his stern upbringing had made him like that. Maybe, someday, he would be able to tell her all the things he kept inside. As he looked into her eyes, shining with delight he found himself fortunate for having found a woman who understood him.
He kissed her again, this time deeper, wishing to express what he could not put into words, giving his all each time their mouths separated for a brief intake of breath just to join again more passionately. The soft moan that escaped her throat filled his veins with desire, and this time, he did not bother to tame it. She did not have to go back home, she was not a partner, she was not his fiancée… He did not have to contain himself anymore.
He left her lips and hid his head in her neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. She sighed his name and he went back to her lips, satisfied at her equally intense response.
When they parted, completely out of breath and quivering, Sasuke stood up and put an arm around her waist and another under her knees, lifting her from the sofa, her arms circling his shoulders, and he crossed the living room and entered the corridor, towards the bedroom.
“It’s still daylight…” she murmured, hiding her face in his shoulder.
“And, do you have any complaints? Do you want me to stop…?”
Her only reply was to move her head negatively, a deep blush covering her pretty face.
The room was still bathed in a soft orange glow. Closing the door after them with his foot, he advanced a few steps, kissing her again, before letting her stand again. He did not let her go, though. After releasing her lips, he brushed his mouth on her neck, just below her jaw.
“Do you want me to help you with that” he murmured softly, touching the flowers that decorated her hair.
“Do you mind…?”
He shook his head and turned her, facing the full-length mirror on the corner nearer the bed and they looked at their reflection for a moment before she lifted her arms and started taking pins from the headdress. He did the same with her bun, feeling it with his fingertips and removing them carefully not to pull her hair. Occasionally he gazed at the mirror. She was trying really hard not to look at it and he could not help a little smile at his wife’s sudden shyness.When he had gathered a bunch of them in his hand, he looked around and finally decided to leave them on the bedside table. He switched on the lamp to see better.
“You should think about what you want to change or buy for the flat…” he commented as he touched one inside her bun. “I suppose it’s not very comfortable for a woman…”
“Your house is fine, Sasuke-kun!” she said turning, and with the sudden movement, the pin he had just discovered and picked escaped from between his fingertips. “Just two or three things will be enough, and we can bring them from my former bedroom.”
“Our house” he said, and she looked at him a bit confused. “It’s not just mine, it’s ours.”
“Ah” her fingers flew to her mouth, realising her mistake. “Sorry…”
“You’ll get used to it…” he replied, touching her head lightly to give her the clue of where to tilt it, looking at the place where the pin he had missed was and retrieving it, his breath falling on her nape, making her blush again.
They continued their task for a few more minutes until all her hair was free from the hairstyle, and Sasuke started combing the tresses down her back, but it was really difficult with all the spray the assistants who had helped her with her change of look had applied. Then, he bent a little and he kissed the curve between her neck and shoulder.
“Sasuke-kun…” she said gasping softly when he grazed the tender skin just above her collarbone. “Ca-Can you cover the mirror…?”
He smirked against her neck and, leaving her, he grabbed the bedspread and threw it over the mirror.
“Is that better?”
She nodded and he extended his hand, touching her red cheeks. With her dishevelled hair falling on her shoulders and back, her darkened green eyes that shone like emeralds in the dim light and her red lips, swollen from being kissed, she offered the most tempting and lovely sight he had ever had in front of him.
“Sakura…”
As if falling under a spell, it was her who approached him this time, kissing him as her hands cupped his face, and he held her close, tangling his fingers in her hair. The others went to his shirt, suddenly bothered by it. They parted and she looked at him, one of her hands brushing his, as if asking if she could continue. He dropped it to his side, his gaze not leaving her for a second as she took the button with trembling fingers.
As each one came undone, his skin was exposed to her sight and she felt the temptation to kiss it, Sasuke noticed the change in her breath and the indecisive spark of her eyes.
“You can do as you wish” he murmured in her ear, his voice lowering down an octave, and she shivered. “I’m your husband…”
She let out a quivering exhale and crossed the step that still separated them, hiding her head and kissing him in the curve between his shoulder and neck. He took a sharp intake of breath as her arms made their way around his waist, pressing her body to his. And Sasuke’s fingers flew to her hips. As her mouth left timid kisses along his collarbone, his hands made their way upwards slowly until they found the zipper of her dress. It was then that she noticed the slight trembling of his fingertips.
The wedding dress fell on the floor in a pool of chiffon and embroidered organza, leaving her dressed in only her tights, undergarments and a short satin and lace white slip which covered her body.
“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered, and her heart missed a beat, thundering loudly just a moment later, as she felt her eyes damp.
He smiled tenderly as he cleaned her unshed tears with his sleeve and brushed her lips softly, his hands taking off his shirt, dropping it near her dress. Then, he held her tight by the waist, lifting her up and laying her on the bed delicately, kissing her and burying one of his hands in her hair as he joined her, and the other started a path filled with soft curves and the movement of her agitated breath. For what seemed hours, he worshipped her body with kisses and caresses as her hands slid across his shoulders and back as far as she could reach, whimpering when he found a sensitive spot. Slowly, the last clothes that still separated them fell on the floor and she could not help a shiver feeling each centimetre of her skin covered by his, their bodies getting warmer and warmer as passion slowly erased from their mind any thoughts that were not related to the other, or what they were feeling.
She called his name, gasping at the honorific, and he kissed it from her lips, not wanting to hear something that put a barrier between them. There, in the privacy of the bedroom that now belonged to the two of them, they were simply two human beings that loved each other in body, soul and mind: Sasuke and Sakura.
Fingers lacing and breaths mingling in their kisses, the tension between them increased with each passing moment until it suddenly broke. Her heart overflowed with feelings for him, and his followed a few moments later with only one certainty: She belonged to him as he to her.
.
Still regaining their breaths, Sasuke embraced Sakura protectively and rolled over on the bed, resting on his back. He was tired, the traces of passion slowly dissolving in his blood replaced by a feeling of completion that he had never experienced before. He closed his eyes, savouring it, smiling as she nuzzled his chest softly. He brushed her hair from her damp body.
“Maybe I should have it cut…” she said in a slightly raspy voice, lifting a hand and removing some strands that gone unnoticed to his fingers.
“I like your hair…” he stated in a gentle voice. “Maybe we should have left it in that hairstyle if you felt uncomfortable…”
She mused his words for a moment.
“I’d probably had all the pins piercing my scalp” she paused and hid her face a little in his chest. “Maybe next time I can tie it up before…”
Sasuke chuckled and kissed the top of her head. His hand brushed the space between her shoulder blades and she shivered a bit.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head briefly, but stayed quiet, not moving except for her slow breathing. He would have thought she was falling asleep if it was not for the barely noticeable agitation of her fingers on his skin
“Are you alright?” he whispered, deeply concerned about having done something to upset her.
Did I pay attention to your needs? Was I too brusque, too anxious? Did you feel the same pleasure? That simple question was filled with so many others, with insecurity and a hint of regret, that Sakura felt guilty, and moved. She was just feeling overwhelmed by the powerful sensations that still coursed through her body and mind, She had never thought she could feel something like that. But how to tell him? How to make him understand the strength of her emotions at that moment? She only knew one way. She lifted her head and smiled tenderly, making him relax. She took his hand in hers and brushed a kiss on his palm, and then on his ring finger, the thin band of gold warm to her lips.
“Yes…”
.
It was already well entered the morning when Sasuke opened his eyes with a soft intake of breath, and immediately, his features softened when the first thing he saw was Sakura’s face, still deeply asleep. Her expression was completely relaxed and content, her cheeks still slightly flushed and her lips a bit swollen from his kisses. They had loved each other once and again between short slumbers and sweet moments of titillation until just a few hours ago, and though he felt exhausted and tempted to curl up with her and go back to his dreams, a part of him fought back, wanting nothing more than to watch her until the moment when she woke up. Blinking a few times, he propped up on one elbow, resting his head on his hand, lifting his free arm to brush back a loose strand which had slid down across her cheek delicately, revelling in each single detail and engraving them all in his mind.
An hour later, Sakura opened her eyes, slowly, and her clouded gaze fell on his face. He was watching her with a tender smile.
“Good morning…” he whispered, cupping her neck and kissing her forehead softly.
“Good morning…”
THE END
Extra notes:
-Japanese people don’t kiss in traditional weddings (sometimes, they do in Western-style ones, like the ones we see in manga), neither do they in the reception.
-For Sasuke and Sakura’s wedding, I wrote the same vow as in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeJQMvydpzQ All the credit goes to its maker.
-There’s a change in the honorifics, I know ^^ I did it on purpose, since reading examples of speeches, I realised that the language is very formal, so I decided to make them talk formally too. That is why there aren’t contractions in it either
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|rette mich| chapter six
Rating: MA
Story Summary: Forcing Jean and Eren to be roommates for four months could be a bad thing. Or it could result in the both of them saving each other from themselves.
Chapter Summary: He and Jean weren’t exactly the closest and probably weren’t going to be for a very long time, but Eren refused to give up on that. Whether that happened in months or years, he was willing to go for it.
previous chapter or this chapter on AO3
Eren yawned for the third time in a row, making his chest hurt, his ears pop, and tears suddenly wet his eyes. He rolled over on the couch, looking at the television but not really watching the rerun of a child’s television show he used to enjoy when he was a kid. It was one in the morning, and Eren was trying his best to stay awake so he could talk to and apologize to Jean. After his talk with Armin and some quiet time that consisted of talking to himself while he ate a nonsensically large sized Caesar salad with potato soup, Eren decided Jean and him couldn’t backtrack in the little progress they had as friends.
He and Jean weren’t exactly the closest and probably weren’t going to be for a very long time, but Eren refused to give up on that. Largely in part, it was because he wanted to fight for Jean. Fighting for Jean really meant that Eren wanted to get to know Jean and gain his trust so much so that Jean saw him as a potential love interest. Whether that happened in months or years, he was willing to go for it. There was still only one problem with that, going for it was scary.
He was Eren Jaeger, so he shouldn’t be afraid of going for it, but in this case, he actually was. He’d done and said tons of questionable shit in his life, all without thought and with quick abandon, but entering a relationship with a childhood crush wasn’t something one doesn’t without thought. Especially if that crush is a spitfire like himself with obvious walls that were meant to keep people out of his business.
That part of Jean made sense to him. He had his own walls and things he wanted to keep to himself. Life was hard, people went through shit, and sharing that stuff with people other than yourself was nearly impossible. He pushed back memories from his childhood all the time, and he knew that wasn’t making his life any better, but it was a hell of a lot easier. Plus, he had no idea went Jean went through. If Armin hadn’t reminded him, he would’ve forgotten that Jean wasn’t in the states for a couple of school years. That didn’t necessarily mean anything since life happens and people move around, but Jean obviously came back different.
Jean was almost as boisterously eccentric and as loud as Eren was when they both showed their true colors. But after a couple years in France and wherever the fuck he went, he was different. If Eren knew Marco was Jean’s best friend before, it was evident more than ever when he came back and really only associated with him. When Jean started opening up to Bertolt and the others, it was obvious that he was a changed man. Jean was noticeably thinner and taller, but that was expected thanks to puberty, and yet his demeanor was suddenly more reserved.
It was never really brought up, but Eren wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize the fact that his crush was noticeably different. What aspects he was different in, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he wanted to find out so that they could be on better terms. And pushing Jean's antidepressant use and having him overhear Eren having sex with Reiner was definitely a path to them not being on good terms or not being on terms at all. They were only living together for another three months, where a lot could happen and couldn’t happen if the proper moves weren’t made.
Eren chewed his lip, incorrectly ripping off a piece of skin that resulted in slight bleeding. He sucked his teeth in annoyance, still chewing on his lip in another section since bad habits were impossible to stop. He then decided to get a snack of some sort, his soup and salad dinner not being enough to ease the hunger from his stomach for a whole night. After a couple of steps to the kitchen, he opened the pantry and then the fridge, thinking of all the possible concoctions that’d result in a satisfying snack.
In the midst of his thought process, Eren remembered that he bought fresh bread, which meant a sandwich was in order. Luncheon meat wasn’t exactly something they kept in the house, so it meant that he was forced to eat a peanut butter and jelly. Unfortunately, Jean was the one that last assured him that there was PB&J making things in the house, so he was incredibly irritated when he saw that all they had was crunchy peanut butter and some type of strawberry spread. Of course, Eren would normally eat those things, but like the PB&J lover he was, he wanted options. This meant no options.
Eren rolled his eyes, going forth with making the sandwich. It was when he was done making the first sandwich, that he heard Jean walk in through the front door. Eren looked at the clock built into the oven, the time was half past one in the morning. He pressed his lips into a line while he set up another two slices of bread for his next sandwich, wondering if now was really the time to try and talk to Jean when their fight was hours ago.
He didn’t have much time to give it thought because Jean was walking into the kitchen, a plastic bag in hand and a bored look on his face. Jean’s face quickly morphed from disinterest to mild alarm at seeing Eren awake and in the kitchen. Eren noticed Jean’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, evidently trying to find words upon running into him so early in the morning.
Eren decided to fracture the awkward silence for them. “I stayed up late, so I could talk to you,” Eren began, sticking the knife in the peanut butter, “I’m sorry for earlier. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all. You’re right, I should mind my business.”
Jean took in his words, setting down his plastic bag and taking a seat at the eat-in kitchen island. He wore a look of mild surprise after Eren finished his statement. “Um, I’m sorry too,” he admitted, trying his best to meet Eren’s eyes through his confession. “And you were obviously worried about me and trying to be a friend, so you don’t have to mind your business. I was being a jackass.”
“It’s fine, I get it. We’re not cool like that, so I have no right to talk about shit I don’t know about.” Eren said, going back to making his sandwich.
Jean shrugged, feeling sheepish at the situation. “Look, we’ll just keep apologizing back and forth. We’re just not used to each other, and we always aggravate each other for no reason, so we just have to do better at trying to become friends and learn how to approach each other.”
Eren nodded, licking a smear of strawberry spread off his pointer finger. “Agreed,” he replied, gently placing his two slices of bread together to finish the sandwich. “But, I’m still sorry about the Reiner thing.”
Jean gave Eren a quizzical look. “Are you apologizing for having sex with your friend?”
“No!” Eren countered, “I’m apologizing because I probably put you in a weird position. You know, with Bertolt being your close friend and all.”
“Yeah, you kinda did,” Jean mumbled, watching Eren put away everything he used. “But it’s not your fault. You’re single, Reiner’s single, and people like to have sex. You can do whatever you want. Plus, it’s still none of my business.”
Eren frowned to himself, washing off the knife he used placing it back in the utensil drawer. He wished Jean sounded more upset about it. “I guess,” he said, picking up his sandwich. “It doesn’t matter though. I’m done with that hooking up shit anyway.”
Jean’s eyebrows rose in interest, leaning back in the chair. “What, you’re trying to settle down or something?”
Eren made sure to chew his bite of sandwich a little longer than necessary, trying to figure out how he wanted to respond. “No, not exactly. I’m just interested in someone, and satisfying my libido with Reiner isn’t gonna help that situation.”
“That’s understandable,” Jean said, placing his elbow on the counter and resting his face against his palm. “Do I know the guy you’re interested in?”
Eren and Jean’s eye contact suddenly felt heavy, Eren being the first one to look away so he could reach for his cup of milk. “Maybe, it’s a small world,” he answered after a sip. “Why do you wanna know?”
“I just wanted to tease you in case he was out of your league.” Jean quipped with a smile.
Eren paused mid-bite, narrowing his eyes at Jean’s smug expression, but also at himself. He wanted to kiss that look off Jean’s face. “Oh please, no one’s out of my league. Especially not him. He’d be honored to have me, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
Jean listened with a smile, taking in the view of Eren finishing off his sandwich. “If you say so Jaeger,” he said, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Normally I’d stay up and prove you wrong, but I’m going to bed. I have to see my mom tomorrow.” He finished while standing up.
Eren nodded, after polishing off the rest of his milk. “Oh alright, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Jean replied after placing his plastic bag in the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. “Goodnight.”
“Night,” Eren responded, watching Jean retreat to his room.
After a while, Eren smiled. Not only satisfied by how their conversation went but content with where their relationship was possibly headed.
Jean wasn’t happy. Unsurprisingly, his mom was the cause of that. He usually enjoyed his Sunday’s, sticking to a routine by doing last minute homework, reading articles, doing laundry, straightening up his room and bathroom, and even catching up on television shows that he missed throughout the week. Now, he was at his mom’s dining room table waiting for her to bring out dessert after a foreseen omurice lunch. He enjoyed his favorite childhood meal, tasting as palatable as it did when he was a kid. He didn’t let the memories of himself being a chubby kid at the eat-in kitchen table practically begging for it after school overwhelm him. But now that dessert was on its way, he couldn’t help but feel perturbed, and suddenly want to scrub his toilet and vacuum the whole condo instead.
He already knew what dessert it was since he smelt it upon entering the house, a French apple pie. Jean hated how he could practically taste it on his tongue, the tender spiced apples and the buttery yet sweet streusel topping. It was usually accompanied with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, the warmth of the pie and the cold of the ice cream tantalizing his taste buds. Sweets were his thing as a kid and the memories of the holiday season were affiliated with the pie, but that wasn’t the reason why he was uneasy about her bringing it out.
The pie itself wasn’t even a trigger food of his. It was just that he knew what was coming next, a discussion or mediation of some sort. His mother made that pie when he was a kid and wanted to inform him that his parents were getting a divorce. As the food-engrossed kid that he was, he listened but didn’t really care. Especially since his father wasn’t that great to him anyway, having made offhanded and hurtful comments about his weight and not really paying much attention to him.
Then, it happened again after he graduated high school. After relatives from France were on planes to head back home and they cleaned up the house, she took out a pie. Even though Jean was still in his anorexia stage, he decided to appease her that day and eat a piece rather than chew it for the flavor and spit it into a trash can. When he was halfway through his slice, and taking a sip of water with bites to make himself feel fuller, she placed a brochure for an eating disorder rehabilitation center in front of him.
It stung. He knew that he was lying to his mother in the first place about doing better with his eating disorder after she found out about his bulimia. Anorexia wasn’t exactly an upgrade, but he considered it one. Less lying about why he was in the bathroom for long periods of time, why he bought a lot of and carried around mints and mouthwash, and the overall gross feeling he felt after purposely making himself sick by triggering his gag reflex. Starving himself to the point of light headedness and immense hunger pains was a lot simpler, but obviously not unnoticeable from his mother.
Jean immediately got mad at her that day, the two of them having a small shouting match over his health and what he was doing to himself. She gave him an ultimatum that night, go to the rehab center or she wasn’t going to pay for the parts of University that his scholarship didn’t cover and his car. Of course, he chose to go to the center and have financial stability, but that didn’t stop him from purposely sticking his fingers down his throat to rid his system of the pie. He did it out of spite to his mother and as a form of self-punishment, wondering why he thought it was okay to eat something as sugary and fattening as a slice of pie after a glance in the mirror.
Obviously, his mother only used that pie to confront him about dismal situations only twice in his life, but Jean also knew the sayings third time’s the charm and old habits die hard. So, as he watched her cut the pie, cutting an obviously large slice for himself coexisting with a plentiful scoop of vanilla ice cream, he knew that his mom was about to say something upsetting and most likely irritating.
She sat down across from him at the table with a smile, a spoon in her hand about to dig into her culinary creation. “Go on ahead Jean-bo, taste it and tell me what you think. I haven’t made it in so long, I wasn’t sure if it tastes like it used to.”
Jean hid his expression at her mentioning that she hadn’t made it in a long time, meaning that he wasn’t being over speculative to the situation. Nevertheless, he dug his spoon into the beginning of the slice, admiring the perfectly placed apple slices and browned streusel on his spoon. He sampled it, the flavors melding together perfectly on his tongue. It was as precise as he remembered it to be.
“It’s good ma,” he said, digging his spoon back into the slice. “You could never mess this up.”
“Thank you,” she replied, reaching for her tea cup. “Thank you for visiting me too. I know life is busy with school and having to move somewhere else.”
Jean shrugged, chewing his bite of the pie while reaching for his vanilla ice cream. “It’s no problem. I needed a mental break from all of it anyway.”
She nodded, setting her cup back down. “You said you’re living with Eren now? How is he? You guys don’t fight anymore, right?”
He let the cool vanilla dissipate on his tongue before he answered. “Yes, I’m living with him. He’s fine, still in school and stuff. And kinda, we don’t put our hands on each other anymore, but we still disagree from time to time.”
“Oh, well, that’s understandable. I’m sure you two will like each other better by the time you guys move out and back into your old places in a couple of months.”
He nodded, dreading that this small talk was leading up to something. “Yeah, it is, what it is.”
She gave Jean a small smile, enjoying the presence of her son and him eating her food again. “You know Jean-bo, you look really good. It looks like you’re finally putting weight on again. I was beginning to worry that rehab center didn’t work.”
Jean’s chewing slowed, looking at his mother and trying to hide his vexation. Bam, there it is. He remained silent, deciding to finish off the rest of his dessert out of courtesy.
She continued talking after a bite of pie. “The center was sending out letters for after patient check-ups, newsletters, and outside center group meetings to connect with others from the program. I thought you’d be interested.”
He downed the rest of his milk, giving her a vacant look from across the table. He set the glass down a little too hard against the hard wood, the noise causing his mother look at him worriedly. “Jean-bo, is everything alright?”
Jean sighed while leaning back in his chair, trying to quell the myriad of emotions seething through him. “Did you think I was interested because you thought I was starving myself again?” He asked, folding his arms. “Was this visit supposed to be an inspection of whether I’d started eating again and gotten fat, or if I’d lost more weight and back to my old ways? Because you could’ve just asked me over the phone, I didn’t have to visit for this.”
She briefly pressed her lips into a line, taken back by her son’s reaction. “I was just checking on you Jean-bo. I know recovery is a long road for something like this, and I was just worried. I wanted to see how you were doing. It’s easy to lie over the phone. I had to see for myself.”
He knew she was right about the last part. He would’ve lied about how he was doing. Technically, he still was. He skipped breakfast so he could eat this lunch, and his dinner was probably going to be small and low-calorie. Relapse was the norm in eating disorder recovery, not to mention it was supposed to be a five to seven-year path to normal eating habits. He’d only been recovering for a few years and relapsed more times than he could count. So, his mother was accurate in her proposition, but she didn’t have to go about it this way.
“Look ma, I’m doing well enough that I don’t need to go back to rehab. You said it yourself, I gained weight,” Jean said, internally cringing at his last words. “I’ll take the rehab center stuff back with me if that makes you feel better.”
“Please,” she said, reaching beneath her table placemat to pull out a couple of letters. “You look fine and gained weight, but I know when it comes to eating disorders it’s not that easy to spot. Especially after what happened in high school, I just want to be vigilant about this.”
Jean squirmed in his seat at the words weight and gain. It was starting to overwhelm him. Not to mention the way his mother pulled out those letters irritated him, showing that she was planning to ambush him about something all along. “I gotta go,” he said, standing up. “I told Marco I’d help him with something.” He lied, before kissing his mother on the cheek.
“Don’t you want to take some food or even offer some to Eren?”
He quickly shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. “No ma, I’m fine and he’s fine. I’ll try to visit sooner alright.”
She stood up, giving Jean a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. “Okay, just visit before your birthday.”
“Okay,” Jean mumbled, returning his mother’s hug before hustling his way out the front door with the letters stuffed in his jacket pocket.
He drove home in silence, feeling the weight of the letters in his pocket while biting the skin off of his lips. He was so zoned out that he barely remembered his drive home, fumbling with his keys once at the door more than necessary. It didn’t make it any easier that his hands were sweaty, his heart rate climbing, and the food that he ate earlier suddenly feeling uneasy in his stomach. Jean recognized this behavior, he was having a panic attack.
He hadn’t had one in years, but his mother brought him back to his old mental space. He was afraid of being overweight again. He knew he had gained weight from when he left the rehabilitation center, but he did his best not to think about it. Currently, his clothes still fit, his body looked slender, and face still held it’s angular, jawline rather than an added roundness. He wasn’t fat, but the idea of it happening again because he gained a little weight petrified him.
Once he was able to get inside, he made a beeline for his room, shutting the door and locking it just in case Eren was around. Jean sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his face in his hands while he tried his best to calm down. He took rhythmic deep breaths, trying to relax his whole body in order to gain his composure. He then tried to focus on something else, searching for things that made him happy or entertained him.
His mind fleeted over a couple of memories of him and Marco, the time he bought his car, the relief he felt moving out the house, and a couple days ago to when he and Eren had a good time hanging out. Little by little his heart rate descended, his breathing evened out, the feelings of dread vacated his body, and his sweat dried on his skin, causing him to shiver.
Jean sucked in one deep breath, running both hands through his hair. “Fuck.” He said, his own voice sounding foreign to him.
He sat up straight, suddenly make eye contact with his reflection in the mirror across from his bed. He then thickly swallowed, his mouth feeling dry but he stood up, walking towards the image casting back at him. Jean looked himself over from head to toe, knowing what he was about to do next was going to be bad for his health. But he was mentally ill, so he didn’t care.
He slowly stripped, taking off an article of clothing one after the other. It wasn’t until he was completely naked did he look in the mirror again. He looked thin, a couple of his ribs apparent through his pale skin and upper torso obviously lacking in muscle definition. He ignored his genitals and looked at his thighs, equally as muscle deficient and soft looking. Jean turned around, looking at his back with his visible spinal cord and modest butt.
He frowned at his appearance, pinching himself all over, grabbing loose skin in between his fingers and cringing at every inch of it. He felt disgusted with himself, disappointed with not only his failure at recovery but also at gaining weight. He felt large. He felt like the kid from high school, his clothes suffocating him, feeling the public’s eye on his every move since his weight was socially unacceptable, and just wanting to disappear into the seclusion of his room, with tears running down his cheeks and binge food by his side.
Before Jean knew it, he was crying. His cheeks wet, the saliva in his mouth thick, and his nose building with mucus. Through his tears, he grabbed a roll of toilet paper, trying to wipe his tears as fast as they were falling and climbed into bed. He put his television on, using it as background noise while he wiped his tears and gradually fell asleep.
Eren sipped at his chocolate banana protein shake, feeling the muscles in his arms twitch while he kept the cup at his lips. He and Reiner met up at the gym to work out, Eren lifting weights while Reiner did cardio. All throughout his workout, Eren was trying think of ways how to bring up the fact that Jean knew about their hook up from a few days ago. He also thought about not telling Reiner at all, considering Jean obviously wasn’t going to tell anyone and hadn’t even told Bertolt. Plus, he wasn’t even sure if Reiner would really even care since it wasn’t like they were hiding their hook ups, but they also weren’t spreading the word either.
He frowned to himself, his shake cup condensating in his hand. He wiped the collected droplets from his hand off on his pants after he set the cup down on the living room table. They were at Reiner and Bertolt’s place, with Reiner sitting next to him, obviously enthralled with a timed cooking show.
“Can you believe that dude actually thought he was going to make a successful bread pudding in thirty minutes?” Reiner said after a swallow of his own shake. “He definitely got beat by that girl and her deconstructed lemon bars.”
Eren nodded, folding his arms as he sank further into the couch to get comfortable. “Well, if he pulled it off, he would’ve been able to redeem himself for his overcooked strip steak.”
“That was honestly unredeemable,” Reiner remarked, his drink straw resting against his lips. “Plus, he basically set himself up for failure with his Asian fusion tacos from the appetizer round. He shouldn’t even be here right now in the final round.”
“Agreed,” Eren mumbled, losing interest in the show and feeling distracted by what he wanted to say. He grabbed his protein shake again, wrapping his lips around the straw while he watched commercials dance across the screen. After the break, the show returned, the judges making their choice after deliberating dishes from the current round and the last.
Reiner pumped his fist in the air when it was announced that the girl won. “Finally, the system prevails. Sometimes I’ll watch these cooking competition shows and they’ll get it completely wrong. But I also can’t taste the food, so I can’t judge.”
“Obviously. Not to mention you practically just cook chicken breasts, vegetables, and sometimes rice if your carbing up.”
“Glad you know me so well,” Reiner said, giving Eren a nudge with his shoulder and a smile. “But, since I know you so well, tell me what’s up. It looks like you’re thinking a little too hard. I wouldn’t want you to short-circuit.”
“Shut up,” Eren countered, nudging Reiner back. He then swallowed, deciding it was now or never. “I have something I need to tell you. It’s not terrible news or anything, but I just think you should know.”
Reiner’s eyebrows rose in interest at Eren’s words. “Alright, shoot.”
“It turns out Jean overheard us having sex the other day. He stopped by to get his textbook or something, and yeah.” Eren explained, watching Reiner for his reaction.
“Oh,” Reiner began, obviously taken aback by the news, “that’s not good. Do you know if he told anyone?”
“No, but he wouldn’t do that,” Eren answered with confidence. “Jean’s not like that. Plus, he would’ve done it already if he wanted to. Has Bertolt been acting strange or something?”
“No,” Reiner quickly assured, “it’s just that people aren’t usually good at keeping things like that secret. How’d it come up?”
Eren instantly grew sheepish, mentally recalling his and Jean’s fight. “I was in his business when I shouldn’t have been. In turn, he threw my business, which was me and you fucking, in my face. So, yeah.”
“Oh, well, how do you feel about Jean knowing about us? I know you’d rather him not know at all.”
Eren let out an aggravated sigh, his frown deepening. “I feel shitty about it. Like, if me and him ever got together, it’d be different if we talked about past sexual partners or whatever. But, for him to over hear us when that was our last hook up sucks.”
Reiner hummed in understanding. “It does. It’s pretty fucked up, not gonna lie. Sorry.” He finished, giving Eren a sympathetic look.
“It’s fine. There’s nothing I can do about it now,” Eren replied, watching the next episode of the cooking show begin. “Anyway, are we still having that party at my place for Ymir tomorrow?”
“Oh yeah, shit, I guess so,” Reiner said after downing the rest of his protein shake. “Why does she think she always needs a welcome back get together? We get it, you’re in the Navy, you periodically visit, and you’ll most likely come back again in a few to several months.”
“Let her have it. I’m sure it gets boring working for your country. Besides, it gives our whole circle a chance to reconnect. That’s something we never really do anymore since we’re about to be in our third years in university.” Eren reassured.
“I guess so,” Reiner mumbled, becoming engrossed with the television show again. “Did you mention it to Jean?”
Eren rolled his eyes, realizing that’s what he forgot to do today. “Shit, no. I mean, I don’t think he’ll care since he doesn’t have class the next day after the get together anyway, but he can be difficult sometimes so who knows.”
“I think he’ll be cool. I’ll send a reminder text to everyone else while you talk it over with him.” Reiner suggested, resting his hands behind his head.
Eren nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “I guess that sounds good,” he responded, looking down at his watch, noticing that it was getting late. “I think I’m gonna head home now. I wanna run it past Jean sooner rather than later.”
“Sure, just let me know what’s up,” Reiner called from the couch, watching Eren turn the front door knob. “See ya later.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eren called back, giving him a wave with the back of his hand.
Once he got to the car, he sighed in relief. Telling Reiner about the fact that Jean knew about them was one more thing checked off his list. On his way home, Eren pondered how he was going to bring up the party to Jean. He knew that Jean hated last minute shit, and not just because Jean had told him verbatim he hated last minute shit. It was obvious in the way that Jean planned a lot of his stuff, his planner looking well mapped out and devised. Not to mention he was a man of routine, so this party was going to definitely disrupt that.
Eren frowned the minute he stood outside his front door, knowing that Jean was home and he had to bring up the topic sooner rather than later. Upon opening the front door, the smell of florally scented cleaner and other disinfectants hit his nose. Jean was staying true to routine as predicted, cleaning up on a Sunday. Eren took his shoes off near the door, noticing the vacuumed lines on the floor.
He walked to the kitchen where Jean came into eye view and was washing dishes. Jean looked over his shoulder when he noticed Eren’s presence behind him, placing a mug on the drying rack on the other side of the sink.
“Hey,” Jean said, turning his focus back to the dishes.
“Hey,” Eren responded, setting his protein shake cup on the counter with his keys. “Um, are you busy right now? I wanted to run something by you.”
Jean shook his head in a negatory manner, running a soaped sponge over a plate. “What’s up?”
Eren took a seat at the eat-in kitchen island. “Remember that get together for Ymir we’re supposed to be having? I forgot that I agreed weeks ago that we could have it over here when we first moved in. So, do you mind?”
“No, it’s fine. The party would find its way over here somehow, so might as well just have it here.” Jean assured, cutting off the sink water and squeezing out the remaining liquid from the sponge. “It’s tomorrow, right? Why have a party on a Monday though?”
“I think that was Ymir’s decision. She wanted the party at the beginning of the week so it could be her kick-off to being back in town. You know how over the top she can be. Plus, she plans to spend most of her days with Historia, so after this, we’re pretty much not gonna see her often.”
Jean nodded in understanding, drying his hands with a towel. He folded it up and laid it down next to the sink on the counter. He turned around to face Eren, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. “Well, I finish classes in the afternoon tomorrow, so I guess I can help set up or whatever.”
Eren took in Jean’s appearance, noticing that he evidently looked a little off. He could easily put his finger on it, noticing that Jean was more covered up more than usual, long-sleeved shirt and long sweat pants. The heat was running in the condo since the winter weather made a quick return from its warm yet cool days to full blown chilly, so his attire wasn’t necessarily strange. Eren just thought it was strange to clean in, given how quickly someone could overheat while doing a whole bunch of house work.
What worried him the most was how puffy Jean’s eyes looked, showing the obvious signs of earlier crying. Eren was immediately befuddled when he noticed it, mentally noting that today was the day that Jean visited his mother. Familial meetings didn’t always go well and he knew Jean and his mother didn’t have the best relationship, but he was curious as to how their meeting could result in Jean’s tears.
Eren swiftly wanted to jump into friend mode and ask Jean to open up but he was able to refrain himself, their altercation from a day ago still fresh in his mind. He laced his fingers together instead, leaning back in his chair to appear nonchalant. “That’s fine, but you don’t have to. I’m sure I can get Armin, Mikasa, and Reiner or whatever to help out. Especially since you cleaned up and everything."
Jean had folded his arms, perceptive to the way Eren took in his appearance. He brushed it off, feeling more comfortable that Eren didn’t pester him like last time. “Alright,” he began, pushing his hip off the counter to stand up straight, “I’m gonna go do some homework and then go to bed, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Eren looked at the oven clock past Jean, seeing that is was still moderately early, the clock just striking seven. He ignored it, knowing that Jean probably felt shitty and wanted to go to bed early. “Did you eat dinner already?”
“Yes,” Jean lied, walking out the kitchen. “Don’t make too much of a mess making yours.” He reminded Eren from the hallway.
Eren made a face at Jean’s back, but he understood since it was obvious Jean worked hard. “Goodnight!” Eren called from his seat in the kitchen.
“Night!” Jean answered, closing his room door immediately after.
Eren propped his elbow on the counter, resting his face against his palm in thought. He wanted to seriously be there for Jean, but it seemed like a daunting task every time the two of them came into contact. The idea that the two of them one day would be able to talk about their feelings and problems to each other was nowhere within reach. It was the most apparent when Jean quickly left, the two of them acknowledging Jean’s puffy eyes and pale skin, yet both completely overlooking it in order to avoid the conflict a confrontation would bring.
It severely bothered Eren since it was obvious that Jean was going through something. It wasn’t like Jean was the most put together person that never seemed to be going through something, but with Jean being the slight pretty boy that he was, when he looked hellish it meant something. Whether or not Eren was ever going to find out what that something was, was a mystery. But it was only a matter of time before Eren’s friend mode mixed with crush mode overcame him and he was begging Jean to let down his personal walls and let him into his life.
He wasn’t exactly certain how, but he sure as hell knew he wasn’t a quitter, and he wasn’t afraid of trying and failing. Eren wasn’t marked by Jean as a suicidal bastard for nothing. He figured it was time to live up to the title.
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Translation: Ouhi no Yakata/Château de la Reine
Hello. Thank you for reading my translation for Ouhi no Yakata/ Château de la Reine.
As this is (somehow miraculously?) before Tokyo run, hopefully this can help people who want to see it in Tokyo understand a bit more. Or help those waiting for the DVD to prepare to watch it when it releases.
This work comes with a few necessary notes beforehand. Please read them.
1. This is a fan-created translation. Please be aware that my understanding of Japanese is not extremely high-level, and there may be some errors. I did my best. If you find something you believe is incorrect, please feel free to message me and I will make an effort to correct it. (The only reason it even got this far was thanks to my savior and editor Carol.)
2. That being said, as this is a play with conversation, etc. I attempted to make this translation flow with natural and colloquial English/conversation tendencies rather than a word-by-word exact representation- while still keeping as much of the intended meaning(s) as possible.
3. If you wish to use this translation to make subtitles for your private/personal use, please let me know via a message/ask. I ask that you do not share subtitle files created from my translations without my consent at all.
4. Please do not take, repost, or recreate this translation on Tumblr or other websites without contacting me first.
5. This is a really specific translation note. There is a character in this play (Crayon) whos self-identification is not made clear. (To my knowledge, it is not made clear in the original novels either.) The only thing really clear is that… Crayon is somewhere on the queer scale.
Crayon is referred to many times in Japanese with the word “okama”. Strictly speaking, “okama” is a slur for gay people (generally targeting gay men or crossdressers, but has [incorrectly] been used recently for trans-people as well). It is often used in Japanese humor because ?? (enter reasons I neither know nor truly understand). (However, it is also sometimes used as a “reclaimed” term. It all depends on situation and intention and interpretation.)
There are jokes in particular in this show that revolve around referring to this character as an ‘okama’. As a translator, it really isn’t my job to write a whole thing about what I think about this or why. I’m really only responsible for providing the material in a language that people can understand.
Therefore, because I didn’t want to end up editing the material to my personal ideas/tastes, and because I didn’t feel comfortable directly translating the word ‘okama’ into any English slang, I left those lines translated into English but still using the Japanese word ‘okama’ in them.
6. There is a lot of French in this show. I do not speak French. But a coworker who does speak French decided to inform me that the French they were seeing was incorrect. I have no comment on this, as I (again) do not speak French.
7. A specific note on the theme of ‘smile’ and ‘laugh’ in this show. The script simply uses the word “warau” which can be a bit interchangeable for those words. There were times where “smile” made more sense, and times where “laugh” made more sense. In the end, I decided to use both words, and at some points even used them together to get the meaning/point across.
Without further ado. Here is the actual translation:
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Château de la Reine
Main Cast:
Asaka Manato Kitashirakawa Ukyo A romance novelist writing a new novel starring Louis XIV
Misaki Rion Sakurai Reiko Female president of a small-time travel agency. Tour conductor responsible for the “Light” tour.
Makaze Suzuho Louis XIV King of France during the 17th Century. Former owner of the Château de la Reine.
Aizuki Hikaru Kanezawa Shichi Real estate king.
Itsuki Chihiro Iwanami Former teacher at an ‘evening’ high school. (TN: There are some special schools with classes in the evening for people who work during the day.)
Kotobuki Tsukasa Shimoda Koji Manager of an electrical parts factory.
Mikaze Maira Shimoda Fusako Shimoda’s wife.
Sumiki Sayato Kondo Makoto Policeman.
Sorahane Riku Crayon [Kuroiwa Gentaro] Scorned by a previous lover, on a ‘heartbreak trip’
Sakuragi Minato Togawa Mitsuo A tour conductor at a small time travel agency, subordinate of Sakurai. Responsible for the “Shadow” tour.
Reimi Urara Diana She once lived in the Château de la Reine. The woman Louis XIV loved.
Hoshikaze Madoka Michiru Former hostess, and Kanezawa’s lover.
ETC Cast:
Iwanami Masae Kanon Mai
Mr. Tanno Rinjou Kira
Mrs. Tanno Ayaka Mari
Munon Matsukaze
Hayami Ritsuko (Editor) Junya Chitose
Pierre Kazuki Sora
Monsieur Duran Mitsuki Haruka
Can-Can Singer Fuuma Kakeru
Accordion Singer Hoshibuki
Anne d’Autriche Seoto Risa
Marie Thérèse Aishiro Moa
Preface: Charles de Gaulle Airport (Arrival Lobby)
[Airport Background]
As announcements flow through the arrival lobby of the Charles de Gaulle Airport, the tour conductor Mr. Togawa, working for a down-on-its-luck travel agency known as “Pan World Tour Enterprise”, is eating at a bar with the irritated tour customers. Togawa is on the phone with his boss, Sakurai Reiko.
Togawa: (On the phone) Ms. Reiko, is this really going to work?? This plan…
Sakurai: (A voice over the speakers) Are you asking if it’s a ‘good’ thing? In this world, there is both ‘light’ and ‘shadow’… so isn’t it fair to say there’s a ‘front’ and ‘back’ side to business, too?
Togawa: You just keep saying that over and over!
Sakurai: (voice) Anyway, you have to keep the customers at the airport for another 30 minutes. You got it?
Mr. Tanno: Mr. Togawa, exactly when are we going to be able to leave the airport?
Togawa hides his cellphone.
Togawa: M… Mr. Tanno… I am terribly sorry, our car… seems to be stuck in a terrible traffic jam…
Mr. Iwanami: Even so, we’ve already been waiting here an hour.
Togawa: I am truly sorry Mr. Iwanami!!
Ms. Iwanami: Dear, can’t you see Mr. Togawa is very troubled by the situation?
As the Iwanamis talk, Togawa returns to his phone.
Togawa: (on the phone) Ms. Reiko, did you hear that? How am I supposed to make more excuses to the customers!?
Sakurai: (voice) Why don’t you think about that on your own? Well then, I’ll contact you again when I arrive at the hotel.
Ms. Sakurai hangs up the phone.
Togawa: Wait-! Ms. Reiko? Ms. Reiko?!
The tour customer Kondo Makoto approaches Togawa.
Kondo: Hey, you! What’s the meaning of this? Is this some sort of scam?!
Togawa: (shocked and panicking) Mr. Kondo! What ‘scam’ could you possibly be talking about?!
Kondo: I was told I was going to be in a men’s shared room. (Points at the flashily dressed Crayon.) So what the hell is this?
Togawa: Ah, that should be Mr. Kuroiwa Gentaro…
Crayon: Don’t use that name! I go by Crayon, like at my shop~!
Kondo: What’s a ‘crayon’? Whatever shop you work at, once I get home I’ll find it and shut it down!
Crayon: My shop isn’t some shabby establishment like what you’re thinking. What a hard-headed policeman~
Mr. Tanno: A police officer?
Togawa: Mr. Tanno, is something the matter?
Mr. Tanno: No, of course not…
The Tanno couple exchange a meaningful gaze. Meanwhile, Crayon is bothering Kondo.
Kondo: Stop it! Don’t blow in my ear!
Crayon: Omg~ so shy~! How cute! Tonight is going to be so~ much~ fun~! Teehee~
Crayon exits while giggling.
Kondo: Hey!... What do you mean ‘fun’?!
Kondo chases after Crayon.
Togawa: Wait… Where are you two going?!
Togawa chases the two offstage.
Mrs. Iwanami: Well well, we seem to be grouped with some interesting folk!
Mr. Iwanami: My goodness…
The Iwanamis also exit the stage, and the bridge leads to the next scene.
Scene 1A: The City of Paris
Visiting Paris on a research trip, the Japanese author Kitashirakawa appears, singing.
[C’est Paris! C’est la vie!]
Kitashirakawa: Oh Paris!
What illuminates this city?
I saw it in the night- the color of dreams.
Oh, Paris!
Only Paris can capture the hearts of writers
Like no other city!
I want you to show me
Like Ernest Hemmingway
Like Scott Fitzgerald
What they sought- the color of dreams!
C’est Paris!
Selfishly, in this city,
C’est Paris!
People can see unbelievable dreams.
I want you to show me
Like the philosophers of Montmartre
Like the lovers who speak of romance
Something I have never seen- the color of dreams!
C’est la vie!
In the city of nostalgic meetings
C’est la vie!
People can find the dreams they’ve lost!
The editor Hayami accompanying Kitashirakawa on his trip appears.
Hayami: Mr. Kitashirakawa! There you are. I thought you’d suddenly disappeared…
Kitashirakawa: Hayami! I told you I hate group activities, not to mention when I’m forced to be around such vulgar people my creative motivation is exponentially reduced!
Hayami: You’re the one who selfishly broke away from the tour. Ms. Reiko’s been looking for you, too!
Kitashirakawa: That nasty tour guide… it’s fine to leave her behind.
Hayami: Really? I found her quite likeable. She’s the president of the tour agency but still leads tours with such vitality… It’s like watching a younger version of myself.
Kitashirakawa: If that’s true, then she’s bound to become a spinster too.
Hayami: Oh ho ho, what a jokester! I’ve definitely not given up yet.
Following Kitashirakawa, the guide Sakurai and the members of the Light Tour appear breathing heavily.
Sakurai: Mr. Kitashirakawa!
Kitashirakawa: Here comes the shabby tour guide.
Sakurai: How many times do I have to explain to you that your selfish behavior is a problem for the other tour members?
Kanezawa: Bro, I was looking for you.
Kitashirakawa: Hayami, do something! If I’m around this loud, annoying riffraff much longer, my creative research will be ruined!
Hayami: I’m sorry, Ms. Reiko. He’s that kind of artist…
Sakurai: Listen, this is a tour trip, you know? Even if Mr. Kitashirakawa is a famous novelist, in order to properly take part in the tour, he needs to listen to my instructions.
Kitashirakawa: Hayami…
Mrs. Shimoda: Kitashirakawa? Do you mean the Kitashirakawa Ukyo?
Kanezawa: Huh? This guy really a famous novelist?
Hayami: Yes! Mr. Kitashirakawa’s “Beauty and Sadness of the Blue Danube” (Utsukushisa to Kanashimi no Aoki Donau) was his brilliant debut novel! It was followed by his work “The Country of Light Snow” (Sasameyuki Kuni) that won the Tanibata Award. He’s truly a rare genius!
(TN: These are jokes regarding real life famous novels “Utsukushisa to Kanashimi to” by Yasunari Kawabata and “Sasameyuki” by Jun'ichirō Tanizaki. Therefore, the (not real) Tanibata Award would be a reference to Tani(zaki) (Kawa)bata. Hahaha, good job zuka.)
Kanezawa: Sounds like a bunch of rip-off titles.
Michiru: Papa!
(TN: Michiru is referring to Kanezawa as ‘Papa’ as a lover’s pet name, rather than a father-figure. Probably due to the fact that it’s implied he is older than her. It doesn’t really hold the same connotation in English, but it’s a bit too obvious of a word to try to change to something else.)
Mr. Shimoda: Well then, have you come to Paris to write a new novel?
Kitashirakawa: I suppose.
Hayami: Mr. Kitashirakawa is working on a romance set in the court of King Louis XIV!
Michiru: Wow! What’s the title?
Kitashirakawa: Are you ready to hear its brilliance? The title is… (emphatically) “The Lily of Versailles!” (Versailles no Yuri)
Kanezawa: As I thought, just another rip-off.
Kitashirakawa: What did you say!?
Kanezawa: Geez, so grumpy! But you know, I feel like we’d get along bro. We’ve both got good taste in clothes and nice hairstyles…
Kitashirakawa: Don’t lump me in with the likes of you! (Messes up Kanezawa’s hair) My hair’s the real deal!
Kanezawa: Aaah!
Michiru: Papa!
Holding onto his wig, Kanezawa looks around in panic at everyone staring at him.
Sakurai: (amazed) Let’s end our friendly chats there. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late to arrive at the hotel.
Scene 1B: Places des Vosges
The stage changes to the Places des Vosges.
Kitashirakawa: Hayami! This is exactly why I said I hate group tours!
Hayami: Well, sensei, I don’t think you ever actually said that…
Sakurai: Now everyone, once we go through the corridor from the Places des Vosges, the Château de la Reine is waiting for us.
All members go onto the ginkyo.
[Château de la Reine]
Hayami: This is it, sensei! The place that Balzac (Honoré de Balzac) and Stendhal (Marie-Henri Beyle) loved! We’re almost at the Château de la Reine!
Kitashirakawa: Aah, the legendary hotel that turned away even the great Ernest Hemingway!
Michiru: (To Kanezawa) We get to stay at such a fancy hotel…. It’s like a dream!
Sakurai: But it’s not a dream! At first glance, you can see it looks like the kind of hotel normal customers wouldn’t be able to stay at… For us to stay here on a tour like this, rather than calling it a dream… it’s more like a miracle!
Château de la Reine
And the Plaza Athénée
And the Crillon and the Ritz, It’s not your imagination
A place that tourists from all over the world desire to stay!
Kanezawa: What’s that mumbo jumbo even mean? Chartoo …. (he can’t pronounce it)
Kitashirakawa interrupts Sakurai before she can explain.
Kitashirakawa: The “Château de la Reine”! In Japanese it means “The Queen’s Château”. It was owned by the ruler of 17th century France, Louis XIV, but the true meaning behind the Château’s name is still a mystery…
Château de la Reine! Others: Château
King Louis XIV himself de
Designed the interior decoration la
And still untouched- Reine
The Royal Suite! Château
That made VIPs worldwide de
Revere the Sun King’s la
Legendary Hotel! Reine!
All: The Queen’s Château… Château de la Reine!
Scene 1C: Château de la Reine (Courtyard Entrance)
The set changes during the interlude, the corridor hangings rise to reveal the courtyard entrance of the Château de la Reine. The hotel employees appear one after another.
Employees: Bienvenue!
Welcome to the Château de la Reine!
Employees: Château de la Reine!
Mrs. Shimoda: A once in a lifetime luxury
Mr. Shimoda: One last souvenir from the world
Employees: Château de la Reine
Michiru: How gorgeous!
Kanezawa: It’s perfect for us!
Employees: Château de la Reine
Hayami: Being able to stay here…
Kitashirakawa: … is the miracle of a lifetime!
Employees: Château de la Reine
All: Château de la Reine
The tour members all move to enter the Hotel. In the courtyard, the ghosts of Louis XIV and his servant Munon appear.
Louis: Munon, what is this? Who are those noisy people?!
Munon: I believe some Japanese tourists who have come to experience Paris?
Louis: And so, they also come to my Château de la Reine?
Munon: I fear that the hotel management has worsened, and they do not bother to take such care in screening visitors as they used to…
Louis: They just run in and out of the building like monkeys!
The place where my soul resides-
The Château de la Reine
For over three hundred years
Continuing to search for my lost love Munon: Continuing to search
Those that dare to interrupt for the king’s lost love…
My quest to find my beloved
Will not be forgiven!
The stage turns to reveal the hotel lobby.
Employees: Upon our list of past accommodations
Are the names of many great people!
Employees (women): Mozart!
Employees (men): Einstein!
Employees: Grace Kelly and Chaplain
Like everyone throughout the world
Who desires to see the color of dreams
The legendary hotel
The Queen’s Château- Château de la Reine
Mr. Shimoda: Our lives can finally end here
Mrs. Shimoda: It suits our final days
Employees: Château de la Reine
Kanezawa: I’ll tell her my secret and then propose?
Michiru: I want to know everything about Papa!
Employees: Château de la Reine
Château de la Reine
Hayami: To create a new masterpiece!
Sakurai: To get our company out of this pinch!
Kitashirakawa: I can already feel something great will happen!
Employees: Bienvenue! Welcome to
Château de la Reine!
Moving along with the number, the stage has changed to the lobby of the hotel.
Scene 2: Château de la Reine (Lobby)
Continuing from the front of the Château de la Reine lobby…
Kitashirakawa: Très bien!! Its sense of style is even better than what I’d heard!
The hotel manager, Monsieur Duran, appears.
Duran: Bonsoir mesdames et messieurs! (To Kanezawa) Ça va?
(*TN: The script has the French as ‘madames’ and ‘monsieurs’ which I have been told are not the plural spelling. Take it as you prefer.)
Kanezawa: Who you callin’ a saba, huh?! (TN: Saba = mackerel fish)
Michiru: Papa! How embarrassing…
Sakurai: Everyone, this is the general manager of the hotel, Monsieur Duran.
Duran: We welcome you to the Château de la Reine! For those of you just arriving from the airport, we will have your baggage delivered to your rooms right away!
Kitashirakawa: It’s here!
Hayami: Sensei?
Kitashirakawa: It’s here, it’s here, it’s here---- IT’S HERE!
Hayami: Aaah- the angels of inspiration have already appeared!?
Sakurai: What on earth…
Hayami: This happens whenever he gets an idea! It’s as if something possesses him! He’s known as the exorcist of literature!
Kitashirakawa: Hayami! Quickly- I need a pen and paper!!
Hayami: Yes, here! (To Duran) Uhm… Je voudrais la clé… We are Kitashirakawa and Hayami. Quick, our room key!
Duran: Oui! (Offers the keys.) Here you are.
Hayami: (Takes the keys) Merci! (To the boy) Now, guide us to our room!
Boy: Oh! Par ici, s’il vous plaît …
Following the boy, Kitashirakawa and Hayami exit through the hotel corridor.
Sakurai: Wait, both of you- I haven’t explained yet-
Kanezawa: Hey missy, hurry up and give us our room too.
Sakurai: I understand… (To Duran) Well then, please assign Mr. Kanezawa and Mr. Shimoda their room keys as well.
Duran: Oui, madame.
Sakurai: Everyone, we will be departing for our dinner cruise in exactly thirty minutes. I respectfully request your punctuality in meeting here in the lobby.
The steward boys lead the visitors to their rooms through the corridor.
Sakurai: Well then, please enjoy your stay.
The guests pass Sakurai and Duran on their way out, and once they are out of sight Sakurai and the manager begin speaking.
Sakurai: Monsieur Duran, being able to complete this special tour is all thanks to you…
Duran: Pas de problème. I should be the one saying that. In this recession, we in management can only do so much in the face of such abrupt cancellations. I wonder what will happen now…
Sakurai: We’ll have to keep working earnestly, but before that there’s another matter to discuss…
Duran: Oui, Madame. If it’s about the double-booking…
Sakurai: Shhhhhh!!! (looking around) Anyway, about the baggage replacements… you’ll have to pay meticulous attention.
Duran: Leave it to us, Madame Reiko.
Duran exits the stage. Now alone, Sakurai takes out her cellphone. In a different area of the stage is Togawa, still waiting at the airport.
Sakurai: Hello?
Togawa: Ms. Reiko! Aren’t you running a little late!? I don’t know how much longer I can fend off the customers’ complaints!
Sakurai: Well, that just can’t be helped. My “Light Tour” is a 7-night-8-day package at 1,500,000 yen… while your “Shadow Tour” can visit the Château de la Reine for only 198,000 yen. On a cheap course, you just have to endure some inconveniences along the way.
Togawa: Even if you say it like that…
Sakurai: Anyway, the “Light Tour” members have just checked into the hotel. We’ll be leaving the hotel soon, so go ahead and please leave the airport now.
Togawa: I’m saved!
Sakurai: Are you going to be ok? You have to do the room assignments exactly as I told you. First is room 201, where the Shimoda couple is staying. (In the corridor of the hotel, the figures of the Shimoda couple can be seen.) They seem to be in charge of management for a large electrical company, but the economy hasn’t been very good to that kind of business lately.
Then, room 202 has the real estate kingpin, Mr. Kanezawa. (Similarly, Kanezawa and Michiru can be seen in the background.) He says the reason he joined this tour is to make plans for a Paris-themed casino in Las Vegas- which is more the type of business the economy has been kind to lately. The girl with him, Miss Michiru, is a former hostess… I thought she was his fiancée, but I’m not actually sure…
Togawa: And for the “Shadow Tour”, room 201 is the Iwanamis. And room 202 is the Tannos, right?
Sakurai: Right. But then the trouble comes in room 203, with the writer Kitashirakawa and his editor Ms. Hayami.
As the stage turns, the set of room 203 appears and Kitashirakawa working at the desk comes into view, working on his novel.
Togawa: Trouble?
Sakurai: Mr. Kitashirakawa! If I take my eyes off of him for even a second I don’t know what he’ll do. He walks around with the air of a celebrity- he thinks he’s so special…
Kitashirakawa: ACHOO
Kitashirakawa sneezes.
(TN: In Japan, it’s a common superstition that when you sneeze, it means someone is talking behind your back.)
Togawa: So, after we arrive at the hotel, what should we do?...
Sakurai: After about two hours, take everyone sightseeing.
Togawa: Got it. But… after that…?
Sakurai: You’ve already got a plan, don’t you?
Togawa: The only thing the plan says is ‘don’t come back to the hotel until morning’?!
Sakurai: Oui, monsieur. Bon voyage. Have a good trip.
Sakurai hangs up the phone.
Togawa: Wait… Ms. Reiko? Ms. Reiko!?
On opposite sides of the bridge, Sakurai and Togawa exit the stage.
Scene 3: Château de la Reine (Room 203)
As the setting of Room 203 turns to the front, Kitashirakawa is sitting as his desk with his manuscript in front of him. His writing progress is not going as well as he thought…
Kitashirakawa: Aaah, it’s no good! I can’t write anything!... I was sure the Angel of Inspiration had visited me before… As I thought from the beginning, this is impossible… writing a romance novel about Louis XIV…
Kitashirakawa sighs, walking up to look at the portrait of Louis XIV in the room.
Kitashirakawa: (impatiently) Look at this ‘perfect’ guy. Politics… Love… Everything the perfect Sun King wanted, he got! When it comes to writing novels, that kind of life is just boring.
Suddenly the light disappears, and a man’s voice echoes through the room.
Louis: (Voice) Boring?! What would someone like you know about my life?!...
Kitashirakawa: What was that voice?...
Behind Kitashirakawa, the ghostly figure of King Louis XIV appears from the painting.
Louis: Barre-toi! Remove yourself from my presence immediately!
Kitashirakawa: (happily) It’s here! It’s here, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here!
Louis: This home is not a place for lowly monkeys like you to visit!
Kitashirakawa: And look! It’s even appeared in the form of Louis XIV himself… Amazing! It’s as if the archangel Michael himself has come before me!
Louis: What nonsense are you spouting? Were you not listening to what I said?
Kitashirakawa: With such kingly flourish! As if 300 years had not past, Louis XIV has been revived before me! Now, Angel of Stories, bestow upon me thine inspiration!
Louis: I am not an angel! I am the owner of the Château de la Reine, Louis XIV.
Kitashirakawa: Louis XIV? … You mean, the actual ghost of the Sun King?
Louis: Do you finally understand? So… are you properly terrified?
Kitashirakawa: Terrified? My pure talent is what’s terrifying! That my overflowing imagination could summon forth even this level of paranormal experience!...
Louis: What is wrong with this guy?
Kitashirakawa: Hey, tell me… If you really are Louis XIV like you say, then you’ve got to know something- right? Something you’ve never told anyone… For example, a tragic love story…
Louis: Why would I speak to you about such things?
Kitashirakawa: So that I can finish my romance novel- with you as the main character!
Louis: How rude! As if I would let you write my secrets into a novel!
Kitashirakawa: Meaning… there is something!
Louis: It has absolutely nothing to do with you.
Kitashirakawa: What kind of secret could it be! Some sort of affair with a noble woman? Or perhaps- a man….?
Louis: I do not have that kind of interest.
Kitashirakawa: Then perhaps you fell prey to the machinations of a woman who only wanted you for your status and power…?
Louis: How dare you! Diana is not that kind of woman!
Kitashirakawa: ~Diana~?
Louis: Ack!
Kitashirakawa: So, that is the name of the woman you loved?
Louis: Silence!
Kitashirakawa: Diana… Diana… The name Diana wasn’t listed in anything to do with Louis that I can remember. But Diana is the name of the Moon Goddess… A forbidden love story between the Sun King and the Moon Goddess… This could work! This could definitely work!
Shocked and appalled at the monkey Kitashirakawa, Louis returns to his place in the painting. The light returns to the room, and the sound of knocking can be heard at the door.
Sakurai: (voice) Mr. Kitashirakawa? Ms. Hayami?
Kitashirakawa: What? I’m finally at a good place…
Sakurai: (voice) Mr. Kitashirakawa? You’re there, aren’t you?
Kitashirakawa: It’s that woman again? Hayami! Hayami!
Hayami comes out of a nearby door to the next room.
Hayami: Yes, yes, Hayami is here!
Kitashirakawa: (Pointing at the door) Do something about her! A wonderful Angel of Inspiration has finally appeared to me! (Realizes that Louis has disappeared) Huh? Where’d he go?
Kitashirakawa goes to inspect the portrait, but the knocking sound returns.
Sakurai: Mr. Kitashirakawa! Ms. Hayami!
When Hayami opens the door, Sakurai jumps into the room.
Sakurai: What on earth are you doing? It’s time for us to depart for the dinner cruise!
Hayami: Oh, is that so?
Sakurai: All of the other customers are already gathered and waiting!
Kitashirakawa: Really? Well, on the contrary, I will not be attending.
Sakurai: That… I cannot allow that! Such selfish behavior will cause trouble for the other customers!
Kitashirakawa: What kind of trouble could it cause? This is my room, after all.
The local guide Pierre enters the room.
Pierre: Madame Reiko, if we do not hurry, we will be late for the dinner cruise!
Hayami: What… an attractive man…
Pierre: Enchanté! I am your local guide- Pierre!
Sakurai: Monsieur Pierre, please gather the other customers and leave the hotel first. I will bring Mr. Kitashirakawa to the cruise myself.
Pierre: J’ai compris.
Sakurai: Sensei… would you mind…?
Kitashirakawa: Yeah, go and enjoy it for me, too.
Pierre escorts Hayami from the room.
Sakurai: Mr. Kitashirakawa, please come with me!
Kitashirakawa: I’d rather write my novel!
Sakurai: You can write it later, can’t you? For example, after the dinner cruise…
Kitashirakawa: You are so persistent!
Sakurai’s mobile phone begins to ring.
Sakurai: (answering the phone) Hello?
Kitashirakawa: If you’re going to chat on the phone, leave the room!
Togawa: (voice) Ms. Reiko! We finally arrived at the Château de la Reine! I just delivered everyone their room keys.
Sakurai: No! No! You have to take the customers out sightseeing immediately!
Togawa: (voice) Ms. Reiko!?
Sakurai hurriedly hangs up the phone.
Sakurai: What should I do…
Sakurai begins to clean up Kitashirakawa’s things.
Kitashirakawa: HEY! What are you doing?!
Sakurai: What does it look like- cleaning!
Kitashirakawa: But WHY?
Sakurai: Because if I don’t clean, we’ll be in a lot of trouble!
Kitashirakawa: Hey!
Crayon: (voice) Here it is! Room 203! Mako-chan, hurry and open it~
Kitashirakawa: Whose voice is that?
Kondo: (voice) Who are you callin’ Mako-chan!!
Crayon: (voice) Since your name’s Kondo Makoto, you’re now Mako-chan!
As Crayon and Kondo approach from the hall, the sound of keys opening the door can be heard. Sakurai drags Kitashirakawa behind the sofa and pushes him down.
Kitashirakawa: GYA!
Sakurai: This is bad! This is bad!
Crayon and Kondo enter the room.
Crayon: Wow! What a wonderful room! It’s kind of like being on a honeymoon~ (Crayons skips over to Kondo)
Kondo: How is it a honeymoon with two men!?
Togawa appears in the doorway.
Togawa: Mr. Kondo, Ms. (?) Crayon. It’s a bit earlier than planned, but I’d like to take you on your first sightseeing tour now…
Kondo: You saved me! Well then, quickly- to sightseeing! Sightseeing, sightseeing…
Kondo quickly runs from the room as if to escape.
Crayon: Hey, Mako-chan! Wait for me!
Crayon leaves the room, following Kondo. Kitashirakawa and Sakurai appear from behind the sofa.
Kitashirakawa: I can’t!... I can’t breathe!
Togawa: Ms. Reiko!?
Sakurai: Togawa! What are you doing? Hurry up and follow the customers!
Togawa: What are YOU doing, Ms. Reiko!? Behind a sofa… alone with a man!
Sakurai: This isn’t the time for weird misunderstandings!
Togawa: But…
Sakurai: Just hurry up and go after the customers!!
Togawa: Y-Yes!
Togawa runs out of the room in a hurry.
Kitashirakawa: HEY! What the hell just happened!? And what was with that okama couple!?
Sakurai: Ah, it must be, a slight error with the hotel…
Kitashirakawa: SLIGHT error?!
Sakurai: Anyway, it seems like there isn’t anything to worry about with the room, so please continue writing your novel at your leisure. Well then, I’ll take my leave…
Sakurai rushes from the room.
Kitashirakawa: HEY! Wait a minute!
Kitashirakawa runs from the room chasing after Sakurai. Once they’re both gone, the ghost of Louis XIV returns, accompanied by strange music.
Louis: Munon. Do something about these monkeys!
Munon: Even if you ask milord, what could I do…
Louis: With people like that around, I’ll never be able to communicate with Diana’s soul.
Munon: I’ve been searching with your majesty for Diana for over 300 years now… Could Madame Diana possibly still be in this Château?
Louis: Are you doubting me?!
Munon: I held no such intent, sire…
Louis: I am certain that I heard Diana’s voice in this Château. She must still be wandering through that deep darkness…
Scene 4: Château de la Reine (Courtyard Entrance)
Lonely music plays. The stage changes to the Château in the 17th century, covered in moonlight. (This is a mental image by Louis.) While Louis sings on the ginkyo, Diana can be seen standing in the gardens, covered in moonlight.
[The Sun and the Moon]
Louis: Diana… even if you never forgive me, my soul will eternally search for you, my love…
No one knows
How the Sun King of France
Hid darkness within his heart
And how that darkness
Was illuminated by the light of the gentle moon.
In the interlude of the song, Petit Louis appears from inside the house.
Petit Louis: Maman!
Diana: Petit Louis…
As Petit Louis approaches Diana, one leg drags behind him as if hurt.
Petit Louis: Maman! Tell me about father! He was a soldier, right? A soldier who courageously fought against Spain and was a hero of France?
Diana: No. Your father was but a weakling. He gave into the Spanish blood running in his veins and abandoned us.
Petit Louis: Papa… abandoned…?
Diana: Forgive me, Petit Louis. If mama hadn’t believed in your father so much, then your leg wouldn’t…
Petit Louis: Don’t cry, Maman! I’m fine as long as I have Maman! I won’t ever ask about Papa again. So please… don’t cry, Maman.
Diana: Petit Louis…
Diana and Petit Louis share a strong embrace.
Louis: Forgive me! … Diana! Petit Louis!...
Diana
Goddess of the moon, who illuminated my heart
I search only for you
Diana
The only proof I ever lived Diana: The only proof I ever lived
I will keep searching for you I wish to forget it…
If only to be able to express to you The cruel Sun King’s
My sincere love… ‘Sincere’ love…
Diana!
As the light fades around them, the stage turns to the next scene.
Scene 5: The City of Paris
Sakurai appears on a dark street outside of the hotel, quickly followed by Kitashirakawa chasing after her.
Kitashirakawa: HEY! Wait a minute! Stop trying to escape!?
Sakurai: Escape?... No, I’m only trying to join everyone on the dinner cruise…
Kitashirakawa: You can’t hide this sham from me anymore! I figured it out the moment I saw those other guys that came in earlier. This double-booking situation was planned from the beginning!
Sakurai: … I’m truly truly sorry!
Having been found out, Sakurai begins apologizing and bowing vigorously in defeat.
Kitashirakawa: You can’t fool the keen eyes of a novelist!
Sakurai: I truly had no choice! Although we planned this expensive tour with the Château de la Reine, we couldn’t attract as many customers as we thought! So… we had to plan a second, cheaper tour attraction…
Kitashirakawa: As I thought! … Well, in planning this second fraudulent trip, were you able to satisfy your greed for money?
Sakurai: If we didn’t manage to collect enough for our settlement by this month’s deadline, my company would go bankrupt!...
Kitashirakawa: Your circumstances really don’t mean anything to me…
Sakurai: Yes, you are right… No matter what the circumstances are, I did something terrible to everyone here… At the very least, I plan to take full responsibility for my actions. I apologize, it is all my fault that this tour will end prematurely…
Kitashirakawa: End?...
Sakurai: Of course, we will offer full reimbursement of your money…
Kitashirakawa: Wait a minute, who said anything about stopping the tour?
Sakurai: I’m truly sorry, but there’s no way for me to reserve the necessary amount of rooms… So, there’s no other way.
Kitashirakawa: Then, you should just continue as is, right?
Sakurai: …What?
Kitashirakawa: The double-booking tour.
Sakurai: What are you saying?
Kitashirakawa: As of now, the only one who’s noticed your little plan is this brilliant author here. None of the other customers have noticed anything at all.
Sakurai: To continue the tour… Are you saying you’ll help me?
Kitashirakawa: Well, I guess something like that…
Sakurai: You would do that for me…
Kitashirakawa: Don’t misunderstand! It’s really not for you.
Sakurai: Then, instead… you don’t mean, for me to spend the night with you…!?
Kitashirakawa: It’s nothing like that!? If the tour were to stop now, it would be a huge problem for me!
Sakurai: What do you mean?
Kitashirakawa: While on this tour, I HAVE to write a new novel by any means necessary! A brilliant masterpiece to resurrect the name of Kitashirakawa Ukyo! Recently I’ve been squeaking by with small serializations here and there- my career as a novelist hangs on the success of this tour!
Sakurai: But, to continue tricking the other customers with the double booking for such a reason…
Kitashirakawa: Anyway, in order to keep up with your sham, I’ll go along with your plan starting tomorrow morning and follow your boring sightseeing or whatever…
Sakurai: Thank you so much! … Well, I don’t know if I should really be thanking you or…
Kitashirakawa: Well, then! I’m going back to my room to write my novel, so don’t interrupt me again! (He goes to leave, then stops.) And make sure none of the others catch on to your plan- do your job properly! Huh!
Turning his back on Sakurai, Kitashirakawa exits the stage. The music slowly changes to Sakurai’s song.
[Another étranger] (TN: étranger means ‘stranger’? This could potentially be very wrong.)
Sakurai: To suddenly chase after someone
I feel something pass through my heart
With kindness And with coldness- The feelings I avoided
Seem to be reaching out.
The bustle and laughter of the city
All belong to someone other than me.
Just another étranger
Like I see reflected in the shop windows
I desired a time long past.
A temperamental traveler
Just another étranger.
But I can see it reflected In someone’s eyes…
The destination I’ve been searching for
Another me
Like a lost child.
And staring at myself when I cannot move…
Is just another étranger.
Finishing the song, Sakurai exits the stage.
Scene 6: Parfum de la Lune
A cabaret in Montmartre, a can-can singer appears during a drum roll. He begins to introduce the start of the show.
[Parfum de la Lune]
Cancan singer: Bonsoir mesdames et messieurs. C’est parti CAN CAN! (TN: Again, was told the French was incorrect idk)
At the singer’s signal, the music picks up pace, and the back of the stage starts a brilliant and shocking Cancan dance. In the audience sit the members of Togawa’s tourist group. Half way through the show, the dancers move to dance among the audience, urging them to dance along. Crayon happily dances along, while Kondo seems embarrassed. The Tannos watch everyone suspiciously.
Cancan singer: Parfum de la Lune
The sweet scent invites you
Parfum de la Lune
Gaze up at the moon in the night sky
Like a fragrant aphrodisiac
Parfum de la Lune
Cancan girls: Even if you’re bored
Or been sightseeing all day
Anyone is welcome here!
Garçon: Do you want to forget that lonely feeling?
Well, let’s get started!
It’s time for our dazzling show!
Cancan singer: Parfum de la Lune
Those are magical words
Parfum de la Lune
The song here is always one of love
Until the moon finally sets!
With the customers: Parfum de la Lune
Parfum de la Lune
Parfum de la Lune Ah!
All: Let’s play through the night!
Ah Ah Ah Ah!
Once the song is over, everyone makes their way back to their seats.
Crayon: To be able to dance the cancan at a real cabaret! It’s like a dream! Right, Mako-chan~?
Kondo: I keep telling you, don’t involve me!
Mr. Tanno: Mr. Togawa, shouldn’t we be getting back to the hotel?
Togawa: That… Mr. Tanno, our sightseeing has only just begun?
Mr. Tanno: We didn’t come here just to play around!
Kondo: Oh, so did you come here for work?
Mrs. Tanno: (Scrutinizing) We… work in import sales. So, we’re looking to buy rare brand items.
Crayon: Amazing! When we get back, can I visit your shop sometime?
Mrs. Tanno: Yes, of course! (Trying to change the course of the conversation) So, Crayon, why did you come to Paris?
Crayon: I guess you could call it a ‘heartbreak trip’. I’m trying to heal my broken heart…
Kondo: I guess okama are miserable on their own.
Crayon: How rude! Aren’t you on your own, too, Mako-chan?
Kondo: I… The person I invited… rejected me…
Crayon: Your lover?
Kondo: No, just someone I liked…
Crayon: So, you invited someone you weren’t even dating to travel to Paris with you?
Kondo: So what if I did?!
Crayon: That… for a first date, that’s a bit too much~
Mr. Tanno: Mr. Togawa, can’t we just do as we like from here? We really want to go back to the hotel.
Togawa: Mr. Tanno!
Mrs. Iwanami: Well then, we will also go back with you…
Togawa: The Iwanamis too?... Please, I can’t allow you to go off on your own!
Mr. Tanno: Why?
Togawa: The streets of Paris at night can be dangerous! If anything happened to you…
Crayon: (Grabs onto Kondo’s arm) Well then, why don’t we all go back together?
Togawa: Ms. Crayon!?
Crayon: I sure would like to be alone with Mako-chan here~ (Shimmies up to Kondo)
Kondo: STOP IT!
Togawa: That, I can’t allow it! No matter what, I will make sure that you all enjoy sightseeing in Paris ALL NIGHT!
Everyone is amazed at Togawa’s raised voice.
Crayon: Well that was sudden… I’m kind of surprised.
Togawa: (returning to his senses) I… I am so terribly sorry!
Kondo: But what do you mean by “all night”?
Togawa: That is… to say… returning to the hotel right now… would be bad…
Mr. Tanno: “Bad”?
Togawa: Actually, about our situation at the Château de la Reine… there is something that I haven’t told you all…
Mr. Iwanami: Well, how ominous! Come now, tell us…
Togawa: Then, I will tell you truthfully… The truth is, all of your guestrooms… are limited to use only during the daytime…
Mrs. Tanno: What!?
Mr. Tanno: Then what are we supposed to do during the night?
Togawa: That is why… I want you to enjoy sightseeing through the evening…
Kondo: Are you saying we’re just supposed to stroll around the city all night?
Togawa: Please don’t worry about that, there are many shops open until the early morning hours!
Kondo: That’s not actually the problem here, is it!?
Mrs. Iwanami: Mr. Togawa, what is the reason behind all this?
Togawa: That is…
Kondo: You… if you don’t tell us the full truth right now, I’m gonna arrest you!
Togawa: A-arrest!? Please, have mercy…
Mrs. Iwanami: Now, now, Mr. Kondo… Stop acting all tough, won’t you? Let’s first listen to what Mr. Togawa has to say. After all, there has to be some sort of extenuating circumstance for all this?
Prepared to divulge all, Togawa vigorously bows to them. (dogeza)
Togawa: I am so truly sorry! I… have betrayed everyone’s trust with my outrageous actions!... (crying)
Kondo: Now what’s wrong?
Crayon: Seems like he’s just crying…
Mr. Iwanami: Mr. Togawa, raise your head now. At the least, we’ve all agreed to listen to what you have to say, ok?
The stage fades into darkness.
Scene 7: The City of Paris
On the ginkyo, the members of the “Light Tour” return from their dinner cruise with Pierre. Hayami and Pierre are especially drunk…
Pierre: Everybody~! Did you enjoy the dinner cruise~?
Hayami: Yes, amazing!
Pierre: Non, the amazing one… is you~!
Hayami: Oh, Pierre… In truth, I… am a ~terrible~ woman…
Michiru: Gross! Lady, you’ve really got it bad…
Hayami: What? Are you jealous?
Michiru: That’s impossible…
Kanezawa: Is that true?! Michiru…
Michiru: Papa?
Kanezawa: Really, compared to an old man like me… (he suddenly grabs Pierre’s shoulder) you prefer young guys like this!
Michiru: What are you saying!? The only one Michiru loves is Papa!
Kanezawa: Ya swear it?
Pierre: Well, anyway… there are many places that I wish to take you as your guide!
Mrs. Shimoda: Well then, Mr. Pierre, would it be alright if I asked you something then?
Pierre: Oui, madame.
Mrs. Shimoda: I’d like for you to tell me… What is the quietest and most beautiful place in all of Paris?
Pierre: The Basilique du Sacré-Cœur!
Mr. Shimoda: Where was that?
Pierre: The Sacred Heart temple in Montmartre! It was painted by Utrillo (Maurice Utrillo) as the white temple~!
Mrs. Shimoda: Really… The Sacred Heart temple? Thank you very much.
The Shimoda couple share a meaningful gaze.
Pierre: Well then, let us return! I shall guide you all back to the hotel~!
Hayami: Eh!? We’re going home already?
Michiru: You’ve already had enough to drink, haven’t you?
Kanezawa: (Seeing Hayami tripping over her own feet) Hey, hey, lady, are you ok?
Everyone begins to exit the stage. Mr. Shimoda does not move, and Mrs. Shimoda calls back to him.
Mrs. Shimoda: Dear?
Mr. Shimoda: We… are going to end up causing some trouble for those people, aren’t we?
Mrs. Shimoda: Isn’t ok to do as we like, at least at the end? Just at the end…
Mr. Shimoda smiles at his wife, who looks at him with a sweet smile.
Mr. Shimoda: You always show me such a loving smile, even at times like this. It makes me wish I could have spared you all this…
Mrs. Shimoda tries to keep smiling.
Mr. Shimoda: Fusako… you don’t have to keep smiling. Don’t force yourself to smile.
Mrs. Shimoda tries to hide her tears. As the ending falls, the two exit the stage.
Scene 8: Château de la Reine (Room 203, Mr. Kitashirakawa’s room)
Room 203 in the Château de la Reine. After returning to the room, Kitashirakawa approaches the portrait of Louis XIV.
Kitashirakawa: Now then! No more interruptions! Come, let me once again gaze upon your true form!
After Kitashirakawa’s voice fades, there is nothing but silence.
Kitashirakawa: Please, I need to know! The truth between you and Diana- Who exactly was Diana? What is the true identity of the Moon Goddess…!?
As the lights disappear, Louis’s voice echoes through the room.
Louis: I will not forgive you…. You dare to speak Diana’s name so lightly!?
Kitashirakawa: It’s here! It’s here, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here!
Louis appears from the portrait.
Louis: Remove yourself from my presence immediately! My soul will never speak to the likes of you…
Kitashirakawa: Even with that kind of threat, do you think I would miss an opportunity like this? Now, come… tell me the story of you and Diana…!
Louis: Silence! You dare to speak her name a second time?!
Kitashirakawa: Why are you trying to hide it? What on earth happened between the two of you?
Louis: There’s no reason I should speak to the likes of you.
Kitashirakawa: Please listen. All I want is to write about your one and only true love.
Louis: True love?
Kitashirakawa: Yes! In the memoirs written about you, you’re almost like a myth- a man with only brilliant achievements and no human faults to be found. But what I want to write is about you as a man and your one true love!
Louis: How foolish… You think the King of France could ever live as a simple person?
Kitashirakawa: Well then, what was Diana to you?
Louis: …
Kitashirakawa: I’ll bet that love was your only proof you ever lived! That is the story of the Sun King that should be passed down through history!
Louis: To live as a king… there is no such thing as true love!... In order to become the Sun King of France, I expelled Dianna from Versailles and sent her here to live in this Château. No matter how much you ask, there is no ‘love story’ for you to find. I still only ask for her forgiveness, and for that reason continue to search for her soul…
Kitashirakawa: Très bien! Beautiful! The anguish of the King who had to throw his own love away… And now continues his eternal search for Diana, as just a simple man. This is the theme I’ve been looking for in my next work!
Louis: After all this, you’re still talking about such things…
Kitashirakawa: Kitashirakawa Ukyo’s second name is the Genius Romance Novelist! Within my creation, the love between two people not bound by time… Well, in my story, you would definitely be able to meet Diana again!
Louis: Foolish! For your scenario to work, Diana would have to appear before us.
Kitashirakawa: You’ll see… What’s needed to bring your reunion about… is Versailles!
Louis: Versailles!? But, she’s still here, in this Château…
Kitashirakawa: Rather, we should summon her in the place of your beautiful, shared memories! To Versailles!
The rhythm begins to change with the Background music.
[To Versailles]
Kitashirakawa: Beyond the boundaries of time
Your two souls are tied together
Louis: A man like you appeared unexpectedly
Bringing hope with you
Kitashirakawa: A fantastic story!
Louis: An absurd idea…
Kitashirakawa: Let’s draw her out!
Louis: Let’s give it a chance.
Kitashirakawa: Like Louis: Like
A feeling of a déjà vu- The feeling of falling in love
A chance to meet again! A chance to create anew,
The story of the Sun King and Moon Goddess! My story with Diana.
Kitashirakawa: Well then, to Versailles!
Louis: To Versailles!
Kitashirakawa and Louis: Let’s go find the next part of the story!
During the interlude, Munon suddenly appears without warning and interrupts the two.
Munon: But the problem is, exactly how is his Majesty to get to Versailles?
Kitashirakawa: (Shocked) Who are you?!
Louis: Munon. What’s the problem?
Munon: In that kind of dress, you would stand out to people in this modern era…
Kitashirakawa: Aah, If that’s the case, you don’t need to worry. You can just accompany me as a local guide who dresses the part for the tour.
Reassuring Louis with his bright idea, Kitashirakawa begins to lead them in song again. The three of them begin to sing together.
Kitashirakawa: When past and present intersect
An unpredictable story!
Come, to Versailles!
Louis and Munon: Quickly, to Versailles!
All three: Let’s go find the next part of the story!
Kitashirakawa: To Versailles!
Louis and Munon: Quickly, to Versailles!
Kitashirakawa: Now-
All three: Let’s begin… the next part of the story!
As the music ends, the curtain falls.
Scene 9: The City of Paris
Togawa appears on the ginkyo, followed by the members of the “Shadow Tour”. Mr. Iwanami is singing the military song “Song of the Young Eagle” while supporting the crying Togawa by the shoulder.
Mr. Iwanami: (Singing) The seven buttons of the young-blooded trainee pilots are…
(TN: This was a song used when drafting potential aviators?)
Crayon: (To Togawa) How long are you going to keep crying? Didn’t we already agree to cooperate with you so the people in the “Light Tour” don’t figure out your plan?
Togawa: But, why are you all being so nice!? After I betrayed your trust like that… you should never forgive me! (cries again)
Kondo: Stop blaming yourself so much. It was something you had to do to save your company, right?
Crayon: Mako-chan, you’re so nice!~ And after you kept going on about arresting him earlier…
Kondo: I’m making an exception. If we don’t return to the hotel, then I don’t have to worry about being attacked by an okama in the middle of the night…
Crayon: What did you just say!??
Kondo: No-Nothing in particular…
Mr. Iwanami: Mr. Togawa.
Everyone freezes at the severe tone of Mr. Iwanami’s voice.
Togawa: Y-Yes!?
Mr. Iwanami: Just smile.
Togawa: What?
Mr. Iwanami: When I was young, I left junior high school and applied to military training, where I became a zero-fighter pilot (TN: Mitsubishi A6M planes in the war). The cockpits in those planes were very small, and whenever we intercepted a B29 (TN: American Boeing B29 super fortress) … there was no guarantee whether we would live to the next day or not.
Kondo: Are we about to have to listen to this old man’s war stories?
Crayon: Mako-chan!
Mr. Iwanami: However, even when we were prepared for death, we continued to smile and laugh.
Togawa: Mr. Iwanami!
Mr. Iwanami: After my time there, I became a teacher at a special night high school because I wanted to pass that message along to the children. Do you understand? Especially when things are difficult, you just smile and laugh. Smile for someone that you care about.
Togawa: Mr. Iwanami…! (crying again)
Crayon: Aaah… He’s crying again.
Mr. Tanno: Mr. Togawa… How about this? If you just leave the “Light Tour” customers’ baggage in the rooms, we’ll make sure not to touch or disturb them. Then you can save the time needed for having to move things around, right?
Mrs. Iwanami: Oh, I think that’s a very nice idea! With that plan, we can all work together to help Mr. Togawa!
Togawa: Everyone! I, Togawa Mitsuo, will never ever forget this blessing!
Crayon: Well then, why don’t we head to the next shop? (Takes Kondo’s arm) Somewhere we can have some fun~
Mr. Iwanami: Well then, Mr. Togawa. You must continue to guide us!
Togawa: Yes!!... Well then, please follow me!
With Togawa in the lead, everyone follows along. Only the Tanno couple remain on stage.
Mrs. Tanno: How stone cold. Pretending to be honorable- like you won’t touch a thing.
Mr. Tanno: Sharing a room with a bunch of rich people from the “Light Tour” when only we’ll be there during the day. We won’t get another chance like this.
Mrs. Tanno: You… really are a bad person.
Mr. Tanno: Do you dislike it?
Mrs. Tanno: It makes me love you even more.
The couple also leaves, the stage turning to the next scene.
Scene 10: The Palace of Versailles (The Hall of Mirrors)
The Palace of Versailles is bustling with plenty of sightseeing tourists. The guide Pierre appears, leading the members of the “Light Tour”.
Pierre: Here we are! Everyone, this is the famous Palace of Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors!
Michiru: How flashy!? This is so my style.
Kanezawa: Wow! This is something! I’ve gotta have a hall like this in my hotel in Vegas, bro.
Hayami: Excuse me, everyone… would you terribly mind not speaking in such loud voices? My head feels like it’s going to break…
Mr. Shimoda: Fusako. What in the world is this place? I can’t believe that one person could have such a place built in only one generation.
Mrs. Shimoda: Well, Louis the XIV was known for his excessive spending. It was the reason the country went into bankruptcy before the French Revolution, I think…
Kitashirakawa, Louis, and Munon appear.
Louis: The one who caused bankruptcy was not I, but Louis XVI! I’m utterly embarrassed to call that man my descendant.
Mr. Shimoda: Fusako, look. There are paintings that reach up to the ceiling.
Louis: Ah, so you noticed! After I was crowned, I had these impressive paintings completed in a mere eighteen years- each one painted by Le Blanc himself. This one here is the War of Flanders, while this one is the War with the Netherlands…
Michiru: (To Kanezawa) Don’t you think that guide is amazing?!
Sakurai: (To Kitashirakawa) So you’re saying he’s… really the ghost of Louis XIV?
Kitashirakawa: Yes! The savior of my novel!
Sakurai: But, to go so far as to make him a tour guide…
Kitashirakawa: It’s a great idea, right!? The idea to make him a tour guide of Versailles suddenly struck me!
Everyone begins praising Louis’ explanations.
Kitashirakawa: Thankfully, everyone really believes he’s just a really devoted guide impersonating Louis XIV.
Mrs. Shimoda: Even so, I wonder why… For such a beautiful palace, this place seems to have a feeling of sadness to it.
Mr. Shimoda: Yes, I thought so too.
Sakurai: Mr. Shimoda, are you feeling alright?
Mr. Shimoda: Oh, yes of course! I was just… thinking about something a former teacher used to tell me all the time.
Sakurai: What was it?
Mrs. Shimoda: When times are difficult or painful… or even sad. You must laugh and survive for someone you care about.
Sakurai: Even in difficult times, for someone you care about…
Mrs. Shimoda: For us, those words are irreplaceable.
Mr. Shimoda: I think our teacher definitely wanted to pass on that hope to live to those of us with no money and no hope.
Sakurai: It’s a lovely story.
Kanezawa: Could you not tell depressing stories when we managed to come all the way to Versailles?
Mr. Shimoda: I’m sorry!... What was I thinking, ruining the mood like that…
Kitashirakawa: I disagree! It is a very interesting life view. Even if you think like that in regards to the Sun King… A king carrying darkness deep within his heart. As he thirsts for the light that can eradicate the darkness, it leads him to build this masterpiece…
Hayami: That’s Kitashirakawa-sensei for you!... What a beautiful interpretation… (suddenly feels sick)
Kitashirakawa: Hayami?
Hayami: I… need to go… to the restroom…
Pierre: Oh, Madame! I will show you the way!
Pierre accompanies Hayami off stage.
Mr. Shimoda: Well then, please excuse us as well. Come, Fusako…
Mrs. Shimoda: Ms. Reiko, are you coming?
Sakurai: Yes!
The Shimodas also exit the stage. Suddenly looking at Kanezawa, Kitashirakawa notices an incident.
Kitashirakawa: Shouldn’t you go as well?
Kanezawa: Me? … Why?
Kitashirakawa: (in a whisper) You’re crooked… (indicating Kanezawa’s wig)
Kanezawa: Crooked!?... CROOKED!?
Michiru: Papa! Where are you going!?
Kanezawa runs off stage while holding down his wig with his hands. Michiru follows him off stage.
Sakurai: That isn’t the restroom, Mr. Kanezawa! Miss Michiru!
Ms. Sakurai chases after them.
Louis: And why did I have to pretend to be your silly guide?
Kitashirakawa: Contrary to your words, you seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit.
Munon: Yes, it did seem as if you were coming to enjoy it.
Louis: Do not make fun! Forget all that, what about Diana? When will she reveal herself to me?
Kitashirakawa: Don’t panic. We’ve set up the perfect situation for a reunion scenario!
[Reminiscence]
The background music begins.
Kitashirakawa: Our story begins with the Sun King giving a monologue. While alone in this corridor, gather all your nostalgia for Diana, and speak of the beautiful memories you shared here together! Led by your voice, other ghosts may appear and disappear… And among them, you alone can locate her true form! Now, call out to the Moon Goddess, to Diana’s soul…!
As the lights change with the music, aristocratic looking men and women begin to fill the corridor with dancing. Among a group of a dancers, the nervous Diana appears. Kitashirakawa and Munon move to the front of the stage to ‘watch’.
Louis: The first time I met Diana… was at the ball to celebrate the victory of my first battle as king. Although she was only brought into the palace to serve as a maid to the queen, she was luminous… as bright and beautiful as the moon goddess herself…
Aristocrats: Dance! Dance!
Together with the unsetting sun
Dance! Dance!
Even as the night begins to fall
Louis dances his way through the people, arriving in front of Diana and offering her his hand.
Diana: Forgive me, I cannot dance.
Louis: Do I displease you?
Diana: No, but I must present myself to the king…
Louis: In that case, you need not worry. I can assure you the king will not be at his station this evening.
Offering his hand again, Diana slowly accepts. The two begin to dance.
Munon: When His Majesty was young, he narrowly escaped death due to the actions of some unreasonable nobility- causing His Majesty a lifetime of pain and mistrust in people. No one could truly understand the depths of suspicion and loneliness in his heart.
(TN: Possible reference to the Fronde Rebellion?)
Kitashirakawa: So, the one who lifted that loneliness was the Moon Goddess Diana…
Aristocrats: Dance! Dance!
Together with the unsetting sun
Dance! Dance!
Diana disappears in the crowd of noblemen, and Queen Maria Theresa and Louis’s mother Anne appear.
Maria Theresa: Your Majesty, answer me. Is it true that vile woman you’ve taken in is now with child?
Louis: Watch your tongue, Queen. If the child is born a boy, then Diana will be the mother to my heir.
Maria Theresa: So… you even intend to hand over the throne to that child!?
Anne: My Queen, His Majesty has been fooled by that woman. His sanity may be lost for now, but soon he will come to realize his own mistake!
Louis: No, mother. My only mistake was ever accepting a princess of the enemy Spain as my Queen! My child with Diana will be my true legacy!
Maria Theresa: What are you saying!?
Anne: Apparently, his Majesty seems to have forgotten. That the child born to him of that woman will also have the blood of Spain running in their veins.
Anne makes a face to indicate that she has a plan and urges Maria Theresa to follow her, and they disappear into the dancing. Louis, angry and with no place to go, dances among the middle.
Aristocrats: Praise! Praise!
The birth of a long desired son
Cutting through the darkness of night the child of the Sun of France!
A baby’s first cries echo through the halls, and Louis breaks away from the dancers.
Louis: Petit Louis!... The child of the Sun of France!
As Louis moves to try to go to Diana, Anne stands in his way.
Anne: Your Majesty, where do you think you are going?
Louis: To see Diana!
Anne: You cannot. Your Majesty must, for the sake of France, always continue to dance!
In an eerie formation, the noblemen gather around Louis and dance, tossing him about.
Aristocrats: Dance! Dance!
Even if the sun sets
Dance Dance
Within the great darkness, The King continues to dance.
In a cross formation, the nobles move around Louis and swallow him. The back of the hall of mirrors changes to a balcony in the palace. On the balcony, Diana is holding her newborn baby close. Maria Theresa approaches her.
Maria Theresa: Madame Diana… Allow me to hold the child.
Diana: My Queen, it would be too high of an honor…
Maria Theresa: Well, show him to me quickly!
Maria Theresa takes Petit Louis from Diana by force.
Diana: My Queen!
Maria Theresa: Well, how adorable… he looks just like His Majesty…
Diana: My Queen?
Standing over the handrail, Maria Theresa lifts Petit Louis high. A disturbing twilight begins to spread in the background.
Maria Theresa: Louis de Soleil de France… The child of the Sun of France!!
Louis: Stop!!...
As the music hits a shocking accent, Maria Theresa drops Petit Louis off the edge of the balcony. At the same time, Louis manages to shake off the smothering nobles. Along with the accented music, the scene changes. While the nobles continue their disturbing song, they slowly move off stage.
Aristocrats: Dance Dance
Together with the unsetting sun
Dance Dance
The glory of the King shines…
Kitashirakawa: But… Petit Louis… What happened to Petit Louis…!?
Munon: Fortunately, his life was spared. But one leg was severely injured, and never properly healed… And so that no more danger would ever befall those two, his Majesty sent Diana away to that Château under the pretext of exiling her…
Kitashirakawa: So, the reason Louis continued to live as the Sun King of France was to protect the ones he loved… but, that love became nothing but despair for Diana…
Finally released from the memories, Louis approaches Kitashirakawa.
Louis: Diana… Where is Diana? (To Kitashirakawa) Why hasn’t she revealed herself?
Kitashirakawa: …
Louis: Answer me! When will Diana be revealed to me?
Kitashirakawa: … I don’t know.
Louis: You don’t know? Didn’t you say if we followed your scenario, then I could find her?!
Kitashirakawa: I don’t know! If you say that the thing that drove Diana’s heart deeper into the darkness was your love, then what would be the light that summons her back to you… How would I write that?
Louis: You have deceived me! Because you just wanted to write your little novel, you tricked me into telling you about Diana!
Kitashirakawa: No, that’s not it!
Louis: You said you wanted to write about true love? For someone that plays with others’ hearts and only thinks about himself… you’ll never be able to write about something like love! No, not of love, and not of anything that could ever touch a person’s heart! Leave my Château immediately… That is my final warning to you.
Louis spares Kitashirakawa one last glare as he leaves.
Munon: Your Highness! Please wait… Your Highness!
Munon chases after Louis. As Kitashirakawa is left on stage by himself, the setting falls into darkness.
[The Story I Wanted to Write]
Kitashirakawa: An empty heart-
And writing to fill it
With the memories of someone other than myself.
And never allowing anyone to read…
The tightly closed and blank pages deep in my heart
What I wanted to write
Were the words of the magic I believed in as a child
Adults always spun Such kind stories of lies.
What I wanted to write was the continuation of an unseen dream
But I don’t even know the truth of a ‘story’.
And the resulting scratches of pain hidden in my heart…
I never noticed them.
Scene 11: Château de la Reine (Room 201 and Room 202)
In room 202 of the Château de la Reine, The Tanno couple is going through Kanezawa and Michiru’s baggage.
Mrs. Tanno: Darling, look!
Mr. Tanno: This is amazing! These are all top brand goods!
Mrs. Tanno: What’s this? (She pulls a hair bundle out of the suitcase.)
Mr. Tanno: Isn’t that a wig?
Mrs. Tanno: Gross!! (She tosses it away.)
On the other side of the stage, the Iwanamis are relaxing with some tea from room service.
Mr. Iwanami: No matter how you think about it, this is quite a strange tour. Even if it’s only during the day, being able to stay in such a nice hotel sure is fun. We should really be thankful, don’t you think?
Mrs. Iwanami: Yes, even though we’re sharing with the Light Tour.
Back to room 202.
Mr. Tanno: Even so, this is exactly the kind of thing that will build up our reputation! *
Mrs. Tanno: Right! With high-end goods to resell, it’s much more efficient than something like card fraud.
Mr. Tanno: Let’s go and sell some of these things in the Jewish shops, then we’ll quickly slip away with no one the wiser.
Mrs. Tanno: Right!
The Tannos begin packing up all the brand goods they’ve found in the room into one suitcase. Meanwhile, in room 201, Mr. Iwanami walks over to the side table and picks some stationary he finds.
Mr. Iwanami: Oh, what’s this? A letter?
Mrs. Iwanami: You know reading other people’s letters without their permission is bad taste.
Mr. Iwanami: You read it too!
Mrs. Iwanami runs her eyes over the stationary her husband hands to her.
Mrs. Iwanami: (as she’s reading) On our journey to Paris… we will also depart on another journey… Dear, is this… is this a suicide note?!
Mr. Iwanami: Yes, it looks like their factory went bankrupt, and they’ve written that they’re hundreds of millions of yen in debt.
Mrs. Iwanami: This is terrible… We have to tell Mr. Togawa right away!
As the stage turns, we see the corridor of the hotel. The Iwanamis exit the door of their room in a hurry.
Mr. Iwanami: Mr. Togawa! Mr. Togawa! It’s terrible!
At the same time, the Tannos are trying to leave their room, causing the two men to run into each other.
Mr. Tanno and Mr. Iwanami: Wah! Gya!
In the collision, the bag that Mr. Tanno was carrying suddenly opens and the goods fall onto the floor. Having heard Mr. Iwanami’s yells, Mr. Togawa approaches.
Togawa: Mr. Iwanami, Mr. Tanno, are you alright?
Mr. Iwanami: Don’t worry about us! Quickly, come here!
The Tannos quickly begin picking up their stolen goods.
Togawa: These brand goods… aren’t these Mr. Kanezawa’s things he left in the room!?
Mr. Iwanami: What!? Then that means?
Togawa: You don’t mean, you two are stealing!?
Mr. Tanno: Damn it!
Mr. Iwanami: (To Togawa) The police! Call the police now!
Togawa: If you need the police, then Mr. Kondo is in room 203…
Mr. Iwanami: Right! (He puts Mr. Tanno into an iron grip)
Mr. Tanno: Ouch! For an old man, how are you this stupidly strong!?
Mr. Iwanami: Whaddya think? Don’t mistake this former navy seal as a sweet old man!
Mrs. Iwanami: Dear! Worry about that later! Hurry, look at this…
Mrs. Iwanami hands the stationary to Togawa.
Togawa: (reading quickly) Is this… a suicide note!? Who wrote this!?
Mrs. Iwanami: It was left in our room. So it definitely belongs to whoever else is staying there!
Togawa: The guest staying in room 203 from the ‘Light Tour’… That’s the Shimodas! What should we do?! Right now, they might be…
Mrs. Iwanami: We have to tell the police now!
Togawa: Then we should go to room 203!
Everyone leaves the stage in a hurry as the ending music plays.
Scene 12: Palace of Versailles (Gardens)
At a garden in the palace, Kitashirakawa stands alone. Sakurai appears on stage, finding him.
Sakurai: Mr. Kitashirakawa! Just when I thought everyone else had come back, I realized you were gone again. Didn’t you say you were going to cooperate with me?
Kitashirakawa: Is it ok for you to not be watching over the others?
Sakurai: The others are all following Pierre and looking for you. Alright, let’s get back to the group and continue our sightseeing for the day.
Kitashirakawa: Sorry, but… I’m going to go home. Alone.
Sakurai: Are we back at this again? Right now, the ‘Shadow Tour’ members are at the hotel…
Kitashirakawa: I don’t mean go back to my room. If I could just have my baggage collected, I’d like to leave the hotel as soon as possible.
Sakurai: What do you mean?
Kitashirakawa: It’s earlier than planned, but I’m leaving Paris. I know it’s last minute, but could I ask you to help me book a flight?
Sakurai: What…?
Kitashirakawa: You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone about the double booking arrangement. Ah, you can tell the other tour members that I had to leave for some sudden work or something…
Sakurai: But, what about your novel?
Kitashirakawa: My novels… they’re really not important, are they?
Sakurai: Not important!? You said that your career as a writer was hanging in the balance, didn’t you? You said you had to write a masterpiece, right?
Kitashirakawa: Yes, you’re right… But as I am now, I cannot hope to write the masterpiece I wished for…
Sakurai: But… I mean, if you work with that ghost of Louis XIV from earlier…
Kitashirakawa: No, Louis won’t appear to me again. And even if he were here, it doesn’t change the fact that my talent is what’s truly missing.
Sakurai: Saying such self-deprecating things is really not like you. You’re usually walking around with that celeb-aura and brimming with overconfidence?!
Kitashirakawa: Are you… trying to make me feel better?
Sakurai: I’m sorry, I just…
Kitashirakawa: No, it is as you say. I always had confidence in my own talent and believed that I could create any kind of story. But as I have always lived thinking only about myself, how can I even begin to write a story about someone else?
Sakurai: Then, what is your story? Shouldn’t you just write a story about yourself? Actually, I thought about it earlier while listening to the Shimodas’ story. Every person holds within them the words to give another person hope. So, you just have to find them! Those irreplaceable words… your story definitely has them, too.
Kitashirakawa: My story… Could it be that I, as the protagonist, lost sight of my own story?
[A Novel Without a Protagonist]
Kitashirakawa: I wonder when it began?
That I was writing
Such selfish scenarios.
Decorating my words
With only self-recognition-
Of a Celebrity Novelist! To distract from
And erase my anxiety…
Sakurai: At some point, I chose without realizing
A journey full of trouble.
On a road without a map
I continued with strength!
When all I really wanted
Was for someone to walk with me.
Kitashirakawa and Sakurai: What vanity-
To walk alone on this road
Like a novel without a protagonist.
Seeking for… And performing as…
An idealized version of myself.
And even, perhaps, without realizing
Hurting someone else
And continuing to search
Kitashirakawa: What I lost sight of…
Sakurai: What I forgot…
Together: The true protagonist
Of my life.
Kitashirakawa: Can I write it someday? My own story that gives someone else hope?
Sakurai: Yes! For someone like me, who’s lost their own way in life…
Suddenly, Sakurai’s phone begins to ring.
Sakurai: (Checking the phone) It’s Togawa. (answers) Hello?
Togawa: (voice) This is terrible! P-Please, calm down and listen!...
Sakurai: I think you should probably calm down first…
Following Pierre, the other members of the ‘Light Tour’ notice Kitashirakawa and Sakurai. Sakurai moves to a separate area to talk.
Kanezawa: Hey! We found ‘em!
Pierre: Oh! We finally found you! We searched everywhere!
Hayami: Sensei! (notices Sakurai) and… Ms. Reiko!? What are the two of you doing!?
Kitashirakawa: What? Nothing in particular?
Michiru: All alone, just the two of you? Suspicious~
Kitashirakawa: There’s nothing suspicious about it!
Sakurai: What did you say!? That can’t be true. They’re right here with everyone else in the ‘Light Tour’ now… (Notices that the Shimodas are missing) Where are the Shimodas?
Pierre: Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen them for a while…
Kitashirakawa: Is something wrong?
Sakurai: (in shock) It seems… a suicide note was found in their room…
All: A suicide note?!
Sakurai: What should I do?... (She begins to put together the signs so far.) Those two, from the beginning… they must have been planning this all along…
Michiru: They’ve gotta be somewhere in the palace?
Kitashirakawa: Why would anyone plan something like that here?
Kanezawa: If it were me, I’d wanna go in the most magnificent place possible!
Kitashirakawa: (amazed) The only one who thinks that way is you. Anyway, we have to find them as quickly as possible! (To Sakurai) The other group of tourists, can we ask them for their help too?
Sakurai: (preparing herself) Yes! Of course we can! I’ll relay the plan to Togawa by phone…
Hayami: What do you mean by the other group of tourists?
Kitashirakawa: Right now, finding the Shimodas comes first! We have to find them before it’s too late!
The intro to the next number begins.
Scene 13A: The City of Paris
The ‘Light Tour’ members line up in front of the curtain.
[An Extraordinary Search!]
Kitashirakawa: There is no time
For us to waste!
All: It’s an emergency!
Kitashirakawa: We’ll succeed with our
Imaginations!
All: Where could they be?
Kitashirakawa: Like opening a guide map
Believe in your intuition!
Kanezawa: The Arc du Triomphe or the Eiffel Tower?
Michiru: How about a gorgeous and luxurious opera house?
Kitashirakawa: Those weren’t on the sightseeing course!
Sakurai: If it’s a forest then the Boulogne or Vincennes
Hayami: How about the Montparnasse Cemetery?
Pierre: Notre Dame could be suspect, too!
Kitashirakawa: We’ll have to find them ourselves!
All: Let’s go through the city of Paris
On an Extraordinary search!
Let’s go through the city of Paris
On an Extraordinary search!
Kitashirakawa: Hurry!
The Light Tour members break off into pairs to search and exit the stage in different directions: Kitashirakawa and Sakurai, Kanezawa and Michiru, and Hayami and Pierre.
Scene 13B: Château de la Reine (Room 203)
The curtain rises to reveal room 203 of the Château de la Reine. The Tannos have been handcuffed. The music fades into BGM.
Kondo: It was lucky we were on the same tour. I’ll be taking these two back to Japan to face responsibility for their actions.
Mr. Tanno: Are you stupid?
Kondo: What’d you say!?
Mr. Tanno: Don’t you know that a Japanese policeman has no right to arrest people in another country?
Kondo: I dunno anything like that! All I know is when I see a criminal in front of me, I arrest ‘em!
Crayon: Kya~! Mako-chan, you’re so cool! … Even if what you’re saying is a bit unreasonable…
Togawa: Forget all that, we should hurry to help in the search for the Shimodas!
Mr. Iwanami: That’s right! What about the ‘Light Tour’?
Togawa: They’ve split up and are visiting famous places!
Mr. Iwanami: Then, we should also split up and search…
Mrs. Iwanami: But, I have no idea where in Paris someone might want to commit a lovers’ suicide!
Suddenly, the light in the room disappears as Louis’s voice sounds.
Louis: Lovers’ suicide?!
Crayon: (clinging to Kondo) What… what was that voice? Scary!!!
Kondo: Quite clinging to me so suddenly!
Stepping out from the painting, Louis and Munon appear.
Louis: First daring to deceive me, and then finding thieves amongst your allies… Does your shame know no end?! And now you dare to bring about death upon my territory!? I will not allow it!
Togawa: Um, excuse me but, what… are you?
Kondo: (To Crayon) Friend of yours?
Crayon: I dunno this guy!
Louis: Silence, now! Before it is too late, hurry and find those poor souls!
Togawa: But… where should we start looking?
Louis: Must I do everything!? Munon! You will be the leader.
Munon: Yes!
Louis: Come people, follow!
Everyone hurriedly follows Louis from the room. The hotel employees enter the stage from all sides.
Duran: The customer is in trouble!
Workers: The Hotel is in trouble, too!
Duran: What an unprecedented incident!
Workers: Brought to light by the double booking…
All: We need to find a solution!
To protect the Château de la Reine’s
Pride!
Louis and the Shadow Tour members appear on the bridge.
Louis: Now, continue to follow Shadow Tour: Being led by the Sun King
You selfish monkeys! �� On a search!
These Japanese tourists- Let’s go through the city of Paris
In my country! On an extraordinary search!
These kinds of actions An interesting collaboration
I will never Let’s go through the city of Paris
Allow them! On an Extraordinary search!
Scene 13C: The City of Paris (2)
As people come and go in the city, the Light Tour members run into them, causing a racket.
Kitashirakawa: Well, how’d it go?!
Hayami: We didn’t find them!
Kanezawa: We got nothin’ too. I give up.
Kitashirakawa: Aren’t there any clues? You were all with them all last night, weren’t you?
Michiru: Now that you mention it…
Sakurai: Do you have an idea?
Michiru: Hey, Pierre… Didn’t the wife ask you something? Like ‘what’s the most beautiful and quiet place’ or something?
Kitashirakawa: Why didn’t anyone say that earlier!? Hayami, you were there too, weren’t you!?
Hayami: I’m afraid I drank too must last night, my memory is…
Kitashirakawa: Miserable! Well then, what did you tell her?
Pierre: Oh! I remember! The Basilique du Sacré-Cœur!
Sakurai: The Sacred Heart Temple in Montmartre!
Kitashirakawa: Alright, let’s hurry!
All the members run off stage, forcing their way through the people, ending the scene.
Scene 14: Montmartre- The Sacred Heart Temple
Montmartre at nighttime. The stage changes to the gardens in front of the Sacred Heart Temple. A chanson singer carrying an accordion appears on stage, singing.
[Chanson]
Accordion player: As your silhouette continues to dance
My memories disappear into a dream
Those happy days are naught but nostalgia
In a phantom-like dream.
The Shimodas appear amongst other random couples, seeming confused.
Mrs. Shimoda: Darling, aren’t you cold?
Mr. Shimoda: I’m not cold, but… I’m scared. You?
Mrs. Shimoda: No, not at all.
Mr. Shimoda: But… we’re going to die?
Mrs. Shimoda: But I’m together with you.
Mr. Shimoda: Did you bring it? The hydrocyanic acid?
Mrs. Shimoda pulls a small bottle from her bag.
Mrs. Shimoda: Even the specialists don’t have this, do this?
Mr. Shimoda: It’s an old product from our factory… but it finally has some use.
Mrs. Shimoda: Look, darling, how beautiful this place is…
Mr. Shimoda: Being able to spend the last moments of our life in a place like this… is a blessing.
Mrs. Shimoda: Yes, dear.
The couple moves to sit down on the bench. Trying to hide her tears, Mrs. Shimoda turns away to hide her face.
Mr. Shimoda: Fusako?
Mrs. Shimoda forces herself to smile before turning back to him.
Mr. Shimoda: I told you, didn’t I? You don’t have to force yourself to smile. Whether you laugh or cry… these are our last moments together…
Suddenly, following Kitashirakawa, the members of the Light Tour appear.
Sakurai: You’re here! Mr. Shimoda!
Mr. Shimoda: You all…!
Kitashirakawa: Thank goodness, we made it! Now, let’s go back to the hotel…
Kitashirakawa begins to approach the couple.
Mr. Shimoda: Please don’t come any closer!
Kitashirakawa: Mr. Shimoda. I heard about the note you two left. That managing your factory took a turn for the worse, and you’ve been left in a great amount of debt…
Mr. Shimoda: Then, you understand! So please, allow us to die in peace, together…
Louis and the Shadow Tour members arrive on stage.
Louis: I will not allow any death here! Do you have no pride in your own lives? In this peaceful world, while being allowed to live freely- you would dare to not only throw away your own life, but the life of your beloved as well?
Mr. Iwanami looks at the Shimodas in surprise.
Mr. Iwanami: Y-You two…!
Mr. Shimoda: Mr. Iwanami!
Mrs. Shimoda: Sensei…
Sakurai: Do you know each other?
Mr. Iwanami: In a way… They were my students. You mean to say… you were the ones who left that note?
Mr. Iwanami begins to approach the Shimodas.
Mrs. Shimoda: Please stop! Please just… look away for a bit. Please…
Sakurai: Ms. Fusako… What was it you said before? In painful times, or in sad times, you have to smile and live for someone? Isn’t that what you told us? You said that those words gave you hope. Even so… are you saying you would choose to die like this?
Hearing Sakurai’s words, Mr. Iwanami’s facial expression looks shocked and pained.
Mr. Iwanami: Koji… Fusako… Forgive me!
Mr. Iwanami bows deeply to the couple.
Mrs. Shimoda: Sensei!
Mr. Shimoda: Please stop! Why are you apologizing…
Mr. Iwanami: I… just wanted to offer poor children a chance at equal education! I wanted you to survive- to live despite the circumstances of the environment you were born in… But in the end, it seems like I was unable to teach you anything at all…
Mrs. Shimoda: Sensei, please… raise your head. It was because your words encouraged us that we were even able to get this far!
Mr. Shimoda: Fusako…
Kitashirakawa: Mr. Shimoda. You are not the only ones dealing with misfortune. Surely everyone is doing their best to live while holding their difficulties in their heart…
Sakurai: I was also unable to properly manage my company. But… in order to protect myself, I did something much more terrible than you!
Kanezawa: For me, well money ain’t really a problem, but… I’ve got worries I can’t tell people about… (He touches a hand to his wig)
Kondo: For me, I haven’t had a girlfriend in thirty years!
Hayami: Forty-two years single!
Crayon: And I’m an okama!
Kitashirakawa: And I… hurt someone. I realized that I had lost something important as a person. But it’s something that the two of you have never forgotten! And that is how to care for someone. Even if you think that your lives have no value… to me, it’s something I can never capture in words alone… an irreplaceable story!
Mr. Iwanami: Koji Shimoda! Fusako!
The Shimodas: Yes!
Mr. Iwanami: Smile. No matter what, smile! This is the only life you get, so if you smile and laugh together… you can go on living!
The Shimodas: Ha… hahaha… (they begin to cry while laughing)
The other members of the group all begin laughing as well. As dusk falls in the sky, the Japanese tourists’ strange crying-laughter fills the air. Louis’s expression changes, as if he’s realized something, and he and Munon exit the stage. As the scene ends, the light fades.
Scene 15: The City of Paris - Places des Vosges
On the way back to the hotel, Kitashirakawa begins to sing.
[Kitashirakawa’s Song ~ Sakurai’s Song]
Kitashirakawa: I couldn’t even manage the easy things,
And every time I lost my way-
I hid my face and watched you from far away.
If I could laugh for someone
If I could laugh for myself
Then surely, I can follow my heart forward
To the person who’s smiling face I most wish to see.
During the musical interlude, the background setting changes.
1. Crayon and Kondo
Crayon runs on stage crying, followed by a confused/angry looking Kondo.
Crayon: U-Uwaaaa!!!...
Kondo: You were laughing a moment ago- why are you suddenly crying so much!?
Crayon: I just remembered when I was dumped… It feels like… I’ll never meet anyone who could possibly love me!... Uuuhuu…
Kondo: Don’t cry! Kuroiwa Gentarou.
Crayon: But… the more I try to laugh… the more miserable I feel…
Kondo: If that’s the case, then smile for me instead.
Crayon: …What?
Kondo: When you’re sad like this, I start feeling sad too…
Crayon: Mako-chan!!
Crayon runs over and tries to give Kondo an intense kiss. Kondo struggles and tries to push Crayon away, but then they face each other and Kondo kisses Crayon instead.
2. Kanezawa, Michiru, and the Tannos
Kanezawa: So ya’ll are the thieves who’ve run card scams around the world, huh?
The Tannos: …
Kanezawa: How ‘bout it? Ya’ll leave that rotten lifestyle behind and come work for me?
Mr. Tanno: What do you mean?
Kanezawa: Ya’ll’s language proficiencies and fearlessness are just a bonus! I’m saying come to Vegas and be the general managers of my casino!
Michiru: Papa!
Mrs. Tanno: In Las Vegas??
Mr. Tanno: General managers?
Kanezawa: A’ight, let’s go talk it over.
Kanezawa and Michiru get the Tannos to follow them offstage. The background music changes for Sakurai’s song.
Sakurai: The important things I forgot
When I became an adult…
Every time I lost sight of myself I kept running
With no place to go.
If I could laugh for someone
If I could laugh for myself
Then I should be able to live
Following the truth of my heart
To the person who I most want to show a smile to…
As the music fades to background, Sakurai exit the stage.
Scene 16: Château de la Reine (Courtyard Entrance)
Under the moonlight in the courtyard of the hotel, Kitashirakawa happens upon the still, thinking form of Louis.
Kitashirakawa: Louis…
Louis: It seems like you dared to return to this Château anyway.
Kitashirakawa: Once I gather my things, I’ll leave immediately. But- there’s something I want you to hear. I had no intention of deceiving you! I truly, honestly thought that I could bring you and Diana together again. But now I understand, because I didn’t take your sadness and pain seriously, there’s no way I could ever write about something like ‘true love’. But now… I feel like I understand the pain you’ve felt…
Kitashirakawa turns to enter the hotel.
Louis: Wait. Well, I can be patient for a few more days. Patience is a virtue after all… Really, when it comes to you… You really pile up trivial matters and create quite a big fuss of it all. There are many things you do that are foolish. But… what was even more foolish was that I did not truly understand what I had learned from you.
Kitashirakawa: Louis?
Louis: I realized I had forgotten how to laugh. For Diana and our son…
Petit Louis: (voice) Maman! Tell me about Papa!
Diana: (voice) Your father… is a true hero.
Petit Louis: (voice) But… why isn’t he here with us?
Diana: (voice) Your father is the Sun King who illuminates all of France. Even when he cannot be by our side, he still loves us very much.
Louis: I finally realized… that their voices were always full of laughter…
Diana and Petit Louis: (laughing)
Looking up at the moon, Louis smiles softly as the sound of Diana and Petit Louis’s laughter lift his spirits.
Louis: I finally feel as though I can truly meet Diana again. And… I’m looking forward to reading it- the novel about me.
Kitashirakawa: Is… it ok for me to write about you?
Louis: As long as you portray me as an exceptionally ‘good handsome man’, of course.
Kitashirakawa: Ha, I wonder how it’ll turn out?
Kitashirakawa, Sakurai, and Louis come together.
All three: If I could laugh for someone
If I could laugh for myself
Then surely I can meet the one I love from the bottom of my heart.
The person who’s smiling face I most wish to see…
The person who I most want to show a smile to…
Scene 17: Château de la Reine (Courtyard Entrance)
The next morning, in the opening of the hotel people begin to appear: Kanezawa and Michiru, Kondo and Crayon, and Duran. Some hotel staff follow, carrying everyone’s bags.
Duran: Oh! Monsieur Kanezawa! Is there nothing we can do to thank you for investing in the future management of the Château de la Reine?
Kanezawa: I don’t need no thank yous. Vegas may be my base, but it’s always been my dream to have hotels all over the world.
Crayon: A hotel in Vegas sounds amazing! (To Kondo) It’d be perfect for our wedding~
Kondo: W-Wedding!?
The Tanno and Shimoda couples appear.
Mr. Shimoda: Mr. Kanezawa, what is the meaning of this? I was just told that you’ve taken over our entire debt?!
Mr. Tanno: Seems like everyone here’s been hired by Kanezawa.
Mrs. Tanno: Mrs. Shimoda! Let’s go to Las Vegas together!
Kanezawa: If ya’ll were managin’ a factory all on your own, then you’re like- really good with mechanics, right? To build up my casino in Vegas, I need an advisor who understands all that state-of-the-art stuff.
Mrs. Shimoda: But…
Togawa and the Iwanamis appear.
Mr. Iwanami: Shouldn’t you just gratefully accept?
Mrs. Shimoda: Iwanami-sensei!
Mr. Iwanami: Mr. Kanezawa, I can personally vouch for these two’s personalities. (To the Shimodas) Now then, give him a proper reply.
Upon Iwanami’s words, the Shimodas gather their determination.
Mr. Shimoda: Although we are not worthy of your kindness, we humbly accept!
Kanezawa: Hey hey hey…
Mrs. Iwanami: Doesn’t it sound like you’re replying to a marriage proposal?
Togawa: Everyone! It’s about time to go! The car has arrived in the plaza!
While everyone exits the stage, Kanezawa is left with a relaxed looking Michiru.
Kanezawa: Hey, what’s wrong Michiru?
Michiru: Do you have no intention of saying anything to me?
Kanezawa: Say… something to you?
Michiru: Maybe a ‘proposal’ like what you said to those people just now…
Kanezawa: Michiru… I… I ain’t good enough to marry you. There’s something I been hiding from you…
Michiru: It really doesn’t matter to me. If you’re talking about the lie you’ve told about your looks…
Kanezawa: Michiru!? You… knew?
Michiru: For a while now.
Kanezawa: But is it really alright? Marryin’ someone like me?
Michiru: Did you really think I’d hate you for something like that?
Kanezawa: Michiru!!
Michiru: Papa!
Kanezawa holds Michiru close, kissing her passionately. As the door opens behind them, Kitashirakawa appears.
Kitashirakawa: Ugh! Why did have to see that first thing in the morning??
Kanezawa: Hey bro! Listen! Michiru and I are gonna get married!
Kanezawa: Well, congratulations on that. But, shouldn’t you look in the mirror before you do such a thing?
Kanezawa: Why?
Kitashirakawa: You’re crooked. (Indicating his wig)
Kanezawa: C-Crooked!?.... Crooked!?!
Kanezawa, looking horrified, runs off stage.
Michiru: Papa! Wait!
Michiru runs after Kanezawa off stage. Hayami appears.
Hayami: (Finishing reading the novel) Amazing… To write an entire novel of this caliber in less than a week… Sensei truly is a genius… No, a master…
Kitashirakawa: I changed the title as well. The new title is “The Queen’s Château”.
Hayami: Amazing! To create such a hypothesis that King Louis XIV’s true love lived here- and that she was the true Queen of his heart!
Kitashirakawa: Well, even so…
Hayami: Weaving the intricacies of the non-fiction tale of our real-life double booking and a fiction retelling of the ghost of Louis XIV… A story of love that transcends the boundaries of time! Make no mistake, this will become an instant best seller!
Kitashirakawa: Even though everything was actually non-fiction…
Hayami: Did you say something?
Kitashirakawa: No, just thinking out loud…
Hayami: You don’t need to worry. I’ll be editing this on the plane ride home!
As Hayami goes to leave, Pierre appears in front of her.
Hayami: Pierre!...
Pierre: Madame! Are you really… returning to Japon?
Hayami: Pierre, forgive me… I am truly… a terrible woman who can only live for her work!
Hayami runs away from Pierre.
Pierre: Ma chérie! At least let me embrace you one last time!...
Pierre chases after Hayami.
Kitashirakawa: (Speaking to himself) So even Hayami experienced such a miracle…?
Gradually, Sakurai also appears in front of Kitashirakawa, gazing up at the sky.
Sakurai: Ah, Mr. Kitashirakawa, you were still here?
Kitashirakawa: Yes, I just wanted to enjoy the scenery here one last time.
Kitashirakawa looks up to the sky, and Sakurai follows his line of sight.
Sakurai: You can see the sun and the moon together in the dawn sky…
Kitashirakawa: They were finally able to meet, the sun and the moon… I heard from Togawa. You’re closing your travel agency?
Sakurai: Yes. I need to start over from the beginning. The double booking was just too much.
Kitashirakawa: So you’re graduating from being a shabby tour guide, too?
Sakurai: Rude.
Kitashirakawa: I’m joking. So, what are you planning to do?
Sakurai: I haven’t decided yet. I think I need to take some time to really figure myself out first. You?
Kitashirakawa: Same as usual- I’ll be writing novels and chased by the pressure of deadlines.
Sakurai: I’ll be looking forward to it. The novel about your own story, like you said.
Kitashirakawa: Right.
Sakurai: Well then, I should be getting to the customers…
Sakurai begins to leave in the direction of the others.
Kitashirakawa: Actually! I have… a favor to ask of you…
Sakurai: (Stops, turning back)…
Kitashirakawa: When we get back to Japan… I’d like to interview you.
Sakurai: Me? … But, why?
Kitashirakawa: I can’t write a story with just the protagonist alone, right? So, I want to interview you… the one who reminded me of what’s important.
[Duet]
Kitashirakawa: Filled with undecorated words
Like monthly novels
Full of overflowing feelings
And interspersed with silence
Everything felt like an incomplete story.
Naturally, I was overwhelmed by this miracle.
Although I’m clumsy,
I want to move forward as myself
And grow with the passing of the seasons.
Sakurai: Even if I unexpectedly remember sadness
I don’t want to forget how to smile.
Towards an unknown world,
I will not hesitate when it’s time for that new journey.
Together: The story you write
I want to watch over it with kindness.
Using the words we believed in
Together, we can pass on
Our new story that starts now.
Scene 18: Versailles (Gardens)
After the song, the hotel area of the stage rises to reveal the fantasy-like gardens of Versailles. Meeting again at long last, Louis and Diana embrace each other. Nearby, Petit Louis and Munon watch them happily.
Kitashirakawa, embarrassed, offers his hand to Sakurai. The two leave hand in hand, with Louis, Diana, Petit Louis, and Munon watching after them. The curtain falls.
The end.
#Translation by Makalations#Takarazuka#Soragumi#Cosmos Troupe#Ouhi no Yakata#Asaka Manato#Misaki Rion#Makaze Suzuho#2017.04#Takarazuka Revue
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The Silliest Take of the Week: 1/29/17
Three weeks going! I’m already beating the odds I gave myself in my description of this project.
Let’s get right to it! We’ve got some nice, spicy takes here this week.
Silliest Twitter Meltdown, Unless It’s Ironic Performance Art, In Which Case: Best Twitter Ironic Performance Art
Tim Marchman, A Short Series of Tweets, Twitter, 1/24/2017
This probably isn’t technically a Silly Take, but given that it exists at the intersection of Silly Internet Things; Political Nonsense; and Internet Tough Guy Posturing, I think it’s well within the #STOW ambit.
Apparently Senator Ted Cruz has organized a weekly-ish basketball game with some other Senators. Ex-Gawker sportsblog Deadspin thought this was funny, and asked for photographic proof of Ted Cruz playing basketball, which is a very Deadspin thing to do. Ted Cruz (or a social media manager working for Ted Cruz, but who cares) responded to a tweet about this with a picture of Duke University basketball player Grayson Allen, who looks sort of like Cruz. Deadspin’s social media person responded in typical Deadspin style:
Ted Cruz in turn responded with an Anchorman gif (”Boy, that escalated quickly!”) and that should probably have been it.
But for Deadspin editor Tim Marchman, this was Too Much, Too Far, and Not Acceptable. (Please note that Marchman is not the one who drafted the initial call for pictures of Senator Cruz playing basketball). Instead, Tim Marchman gave us a series of nine tweets, the most important of which are below:
Now, a part of me hopes that this is Mr. Marchman being deliberately ridiculous in order to take the heat off of a woman (Ms. Feinberg, who drafted the original call for pictures) who was undoubtedly getting a disproportionate and awful amount of hate from Dudes on the Internet, who are, let there be no mistake, The Worst. If that’s the case, then good work, Mr. Marchman, and I apologize.
But I just want to revel for a moment in the gloriousness of “Unsurprising that not one Ted Cruz-supporting cuck/Twitter user is willing to face me in the UFC octagon.” I don’t know if I could find a better way to distill the silliness that is Internet Tough Guy Posturing into <140 characters. If Marchman is being ironic, then I admire his precision. My guess is that he’s not being ironic, given that 100% of the 11 tweets on his twitter feed consist of him whining about this dustup and two contextless RTs of weird things Curt Schilling once said.
Also, as always happens with Internet Tough Guy Posturing, and as several right-wing websites were happy to point out, some people who are apparently Actual Soldiers And/Or UFC Fighters and who like Ted Cruz have offered to take Marchman up on his challenge.
Don’t engage in Internet Tough Guy Posturing, folks. You look silly, and there’s always somebody out there who is bigger than you are and willing to call your bluff.
Most Predictably Tiresome Response to Angry Protests
David French, “This Is What Post-Christian Dissent Looks Like,” National Review, 1/27/2017.
People on the Left are very mad about Donald Trump. Previously, people on the Left were comically excited about Barack Obama. This, according to David French, has something to do with the fact that we’re not very Christian any more:
“This is post-Christian politics to its core. This is the politics one gets when this world is our only home, and no one is in charge but us. There is no sense of proportion.”
Finally:
“Eight years ago, all too many on the left thought that light had come into the darkness. Now they believe the darkness has overcome the light. In reality, the false dawn preceded the false dusk. Our Republic is still built to last, and the hysterical reaction threatens to be worse than the man who triggered it.”
I’ve tried to reread this a few times to figure out the connections French wants to make between protests and whatever the hell “post-Christian dissent” is, but all I can get out of this piece is a long, wet raspberry noise. So, in conclusion: shut up, David.
See also George Will, “Trump and academia actually have a lot in common,” The Washington Post, 1/27/2017.
Most Cringe-Inducing Set of Editorial Retractions
Moira Wegel, “How Ultrasound Became Political,” The Atlantic, 1/24/2017
I’m not willing to suggest that this whole article is really a Silly Take -- its thesis is that the development of ultrasound technology was a useful tool for pro-life advocates and lawmakers, particularly in the context of those condescending laws that require doctors to show women ultrasounds of their fetuses before they have an abortion. There may well be some value in this train of thought, and I certainly learned some things reading this article.
That is, I thought I learned some things, until I saw the amazing and ever-growing list of corrections that had to be made to this article after it was published. Now I’m not sure I learned anything from this article, because I’m not sure the author of this article can be trusted to be sure what color the sky is:
“*This article originally stated that there is "no heart to speak of" in a 6-week-old fetus. In fact, the heart has already begun to form by that point in a pregnancy. The article also originally stated that an expectant mother participating in a study decided to carry her pregnancy to term even after learning that the fetus was suffering from a genetic disorder, when in fact the fetus was only at high risk for a genetic disorder. The article originally stated, as well, that Bernard Nathanson headed the National Right-to-Life Committee and became a born-again Christian. Nathanson was active in, but did not head the committee, and was never a born-again Christian, but rather a Roman Catholic. The article originally stated that many doctors in 1985 claimed fetuses had no reflexive responses to medical instruments at 12 weeks. Finally, the article originally stated that John Kasich vetoed a bill from Indiana's legislature, instead of Ohio's legislature, after which the article was incorrectly amended to state that Mike Pence had vetoed the bill. We regret the errors.“
It’s not every day that an article for The Atlantic manages to mix up “born-again” Christians with Roman Catholics, misstate facts about fetal development, and get royally confused about who the governor of Ohio is. A little bit of fact-checking goes a long way, folks.
Biggest Grudge Against an Anodyne Celebrity
Amy Zimmerman, “Taylor Swift’s Spineless Feminism,” The Daily Beast, 1/23/2017
Taylor Swift mostly doesn’t have public political opinions, and Amy Zimmerman has gotten weirdly mad about this before for The Daily Beast. I think about Taylor Swift about as often as I think about throw pillows -- they seem nice enough, and some people seem to have surprisingly strong opinions about them, but I can’t see a lot of need for them in my life. But for Amy Zimmerman, the fact that Taylor Swift hasn’t taken a public position on Donald Trump is a Big Problem that must be Written About At Length.
Look, I have read some legit critiques about Swift’s brand of feminism before, and I’m not really looking to come out swinging for T-Swift. But it’s weird to get this worked up about a pop star’s apparent lack of opinions:
“Courtesy of the Instagram, we learned that Swift endorses democracy and cold-shoulder blouses. But in terms of candidates, it was impossible to deduce if she’d voted for Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, or Jill freaking Stein.”
who cares who taylor swift voted for, amy
After citing the fact that T-Swift has a small group of neo-Nazi fans who like her because she looks like their ideal woman, Zimmerman says:
“If you’re not overtly on board with the resistance, then you’re tacitly chill with being proclaimed an Aryan goddess.”
Other good moments are when she gets confused about Swift ex-boyfriend Tom Hiddleston’s acting career:
“Tom Hiddleston has played many roles, from Thor to Taylor Swift’s boyfriend.”
And look, this doesn’t matter, but Tom Hiddleston didn’t play Thor. Snark about anodyne celebrities looks even more petty if you can’t be bothered to get basic facts right.
Finally:
“In hindsight, [Hiddleston’s speech] proves that HiddleSwift may have been more compatible than we ever thought. Can’t you just picture the face of watered-down feminism and 2017’s proudest white savior, taking a break from swapping spit to congratulate one another on staying so woke?”
Blech.
The Silliest Take of the Week: 1/29/2017
Filip Bondy, “How Vital Are Women? This Town Found Out as They Left to March,” The New York Times, 1/22/2017.
Here’s the pitch: Filip Bondy wants to show that women are important. This is a good thing: women are important.
Here’s the problem: Filip Bondy wants to show that women are important by highlighting the plights of their poor, abandoned husbands who had to take care of the kids by themselves for --
listen, if you need to take a moment to collect yourself, that’s fine, this is pretty shocking --
these husbands had to take care of their kids for twelve full hours while the women went away to march for some weird chick thing. Can you imagine? Really goes to show how important women are.
Do you think I’m overstating things? Here is the thesis paragraph:
“In their wake, they left behind a progressive bedroom community with suddenly skewed demographics. Routines were radically altered, and many fathers tried to meet weekend demands alone for a change. By participating in the marches and highlighting the importance of women’s rights, the women also demonstrated, in towns like Montclair, their importance just by their absence.”
those poor bastards, having to meet weekend demands alone
“Usually, these chores and deliveries were shared by both parents, in a thoroughly modern way. On this day, many dads were left to juggle schedules on their own.”
the humanity
“Steve Politi, a sports columnist for The Star-Ledger of Newark, missed the Rutgers men’s basketball game on Saturday to stay home with his two children. He did the soccer-game thing, set up play dates (arguably, cheating a bit) and warmed up some leftover pizza for lunch. He also cleaned the refrigerator.”
the refrigerator, Linda, the refrigerator -- I cleaned the goddamn refrigerator while you were marching for uteruses or whatever, I deserve more respect around here
“After his dutiful Saturday, Mr. Coyle went off to play tennis on Sunday morning. It was part of the deal he had struck with his wife.”
a fair and equitable bargain. Mr. Coyle is truly a just sovereign over his household.
“The buses returned late Saturday night from Washington to a quiet, heartfelt welcome. By Sunday morning, most of the women were back to their routines in Montclair. The JaiPure Yoga Studio reported full attendance, and many fathers exhaled in relief.”
“and in that instant, all returned to normal. the seas ceased to boil, the locusts retreated over the horizon, and the wailing of children could no longer be heard. the villagers mourned their dead, but exulted in the knowledge that the women were home, and finally, all would be well again.”
Maybe, just maybe, if you’re trying to write an article about how women are cool and neat and important and Trump is bad, don’t manage to make it sound like men having to stay with their kids for a Saturday is some kind of Great, Heroic Sacrifice.
--
Thanks for reading! And thanks to Braden, Amanda, Tim, and Joel for submitting Silly Takes. As always, don’t forget to send your favorite ridiculous takes to [email protected], and have a great week!
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