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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 11 months

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gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 2: Meeting

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Welcome to the second chapter of my rework! Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs, my slap daddy Ange, for reading through this chapter for me!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

For the first time in a decade, Daemon and Rhaenyra sit together and talk.

She pours him wine, and he drinks in the first true taste of home he has had since arriving. Ah, Westerosi strongwine. None of that watered-down Pentoshi shit. She snickers gently at his expression, watching him as he swills the dark liquid around.

“Is it to your liking, Uncle?” she asks teasingly, glancing towards the cradle as she has been over the past few minutes. It is truly a miracle the boy had not stirred while they were engaged in their battle of wills.

“Hm.” He smiles wryly at her. She does know him well, he supposes. “It’s good.”

The brief moment of levity passes. They stare into their cups for a time, not knowing how to move forward. It is Rhaenyra who makes the first move.

“So,” she begins. “That happened.”

He snorts. He has missed her brazenness. “Quite.”

He takes another swig of the wine, relishing in the fullness of the flavour as it bursts across his tongue. It is unlike him to be so reticent, but he is unsure of what to say, how to possibly put into words what he is thinking.

When were you replaced by a stranger, niece? Where is the girl I used to bounce on my knee at feasts? The girl I used to race across the skies, laughing? The headstrong, haughty creature that I would have once called the other half of my spirit?

When did you leave me behind, Rhaenyra?

Where his thoughts are trapped in his mind, swirling fruitlessly with no hope of release, hers are not.

“I think it’s safe to say that won’t ever be happening again,” she says, looking over at him inscrutably.

He sighs, finally making eye contact with her. “No. I suppose not.”

He expects she is right. But it burns him to have spent so long wishing and hoping for something that would never live up to his dreams. There is an adage there, he thinks to himself, about being careful what one wishes for. It seems the fantasy he had conjured up would only ever be that.

“I’m sorry, Uncle. But we aren’t the same people we once were. And I think you know that.”

“I do.” He takes in her appearance almost wistfully.

She really is beautiful. But life had changed their trajectories irrevocably now. She had made a family for herself, had become a mother, had become something more than he’d ever thought her capable of—and he cannot say the same for himself.

“Does he treat you well?” He has to ask her; has to know she is satisfied with her life before he can let her go once and for all.

“Which one?” Rhaenyra laughs suddenly, wickedly. She knows he knows of the rumours, it would seem.

It shocks him from his stupor, and he guffaws lightly in response.

“Either,” he says. “Both.”

She smiles, looks over at the babe again. From what he can see, the boy is a handsome one, dark hair and pale skin and as bonny as any babe fresh to the world is.

“Laenor is a good man. He has never once begrudged me Harwin; sees him as part of us, even”—she narrows her eyes at him as he snorts at her mention of the Strong boy’s name—“and he treats the boys as his own. Calls them ‘fine Velaryon specimens’. You’d think he actually sired them from the way he goes on.”

Daemon’s curiosity and a twisted desire to indulge in self-flagellation prompts him to ask. “That’s all very well and good, but how does he treat you? ”

“He’s my best friend.” Her voice is soft. “I trust him—more than I’ve trusted anyone. I love him, and he loves me, though it is not the love you’d expect between a husband and wife.”

“I’m glad.” He is, though he smarts at the boy’s new designation as his niece’s prized confidant. He had once taken that role in her life, after all. “And the other?”

It surprises him to see his unwavering niece colour bright red. The part of him that loves her purely is warmed to see such delight cross her visage.

“He is good to me.” Her grin as she glances over at baby Joffrey again tells him all he needs to know. “He loves me, Daemon—and I love him, too.” It is as though she is beseeching him to understand why she had forsaken him.

He does not begrudge her for finding love, not after the way he’d left her so bereft. That’d be too cruel, even for him.

“I’m happy for you.”

Though it is a bitter loss, he can find it within himself to be pleased for her. He senses she has something else to add, but that she is hesitant to broach the subject. Searching for a means with which to tease it out of her, he continues the line of discussion.

“Say—did I not hear something about the Strong lad wedding our very own cousin?”

He is taken aback when the flush on her cheeks deepens further, and he leans in anticipatorily as he realises he has struck upon the correct line of inquiry. There’s something suspicious about her shiftiness, about the glow of her skin and the way she cannot hold his gaze for long.

No… It couldn’t be—

“How is Laena?” he asks, prodding, relishing the look of discomfort on her face.

“She is… well,” she replies hastily, “and is preparing to welcome a third child.”

He baits her to the finish, knowing all too well the reason for her prevarication. “Ah—I’m sure your Strong man is pleased.”

Had she not reddened in his own company, once? Had she not fluttered her lashes and smiled with closed lips in that kittenish, secretive manner whenever he dared step too close? Had she not been incapable of staring back at him, flicking her eyes to his for a moment before departing, face flushing ever brighter with each attempt? A Rhaenyra in love is an easy thing to spot, it seems, even after all this time.

He goes in for the kill. “What of you? Equally as delighted?”

“What?” Rhaenyra’s head snaps up, her tone startled. “What does that mean?”

“It’s merely a question, niece; no need to get so upset.” He pauses, gives her a moment to collect herself. “How long have you been bedding her, then?”

He can see that his niece knows there’s no chance of hedging. She sighs, rolls her eyes.

“None of your business” she says, shaking her head as he laughs his victory.

He had not been expecting her to be quite so adventurous, taking man and woman both as her lovers. But then, he is realising ever more clearly that he doesn’t know this woman before him.

What did I awaken that night in the brothel? he wonders.

Suddenly, the door clatters as someone knocks, startling the babe in his cradle. He begins to cry, and Rhaenyra sighs as she makes to get up.

“‘Nyra!” a man’s voice calls through the wood. “You decent?”

She is now, Daemon thinks wryly. An hour ago, perhaps not—he’d had to lace her into a new gown after the mess he’d made of the last.

“Yes!” She is already taking the child in her arms and bouncing him softly to soothe him. “Come in!”

“Do you have any idea where I can find Luke? Or your si—”

Laenor’s speech halts as he takes in the scene before him and the guest he has found in his wife’s chambers.

“Daemon!” He laughs, striding forward to clap him on the back. Daemon rises and does the same, looking over Laenor as he returns the greeting. The past ten years had served him as well as they had served Rhaenyra. “I had wondered where you’d gone!”

“Merely reminiscing with my niece.” Daemon glances over at Rhaenyra. She wears a look of fond annoyance, and he wonders if this is the normal dynamic between them two.

“Try the library—she took him for his lessons earlier, remember?” Rhaenyra answers Laenor’s previous enquiry, returning the now-soothed baby to the cradle. “And really, Laenor; do be careful with that fucking door. You woke Joff up again.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Laenor reaches over the cradle to brush light fingers along the babe’s head.

Daemon is struck by how practised the scene before him is. The realisation that he has missed more than he can possibly comprehend settles in further and further with each moment that passes, with every word that is spoken between his niece and her husband.

Then, he catches up to the conversation properly.

He frowns. “Who took him?”

“My sister,” Rhaenyra brow wrinkles. “You know—your other niece? You’re getting old, Uncle. Your memory’s terrible.”

“I remember her, you silly woman,” Daemon says, arms folding. How the fuck am I supposed to know that was what she meant? “Small thing she was, when I left.”

I will miss you, Uncle. Even now, it twinges.

You had always been small—too small, he’d thought as he held you for the first time, your tiny body nearly lost in the crook of his arm. You were a slight waif of a child, calling to mind the stories of magic and mystery from the shores of times past, from the very fount of Old Valyria. You were his ‘fairy girl’, ready to depart the lands of Westeros for your enchanted homeland at any given moment.

Such irony, it is, that it had been he to leave you.

Laenor cackles, the sound slightly deranged as he shares a glance with Rhaenyra. Daemon frowns, insulted, though he’s unsure what part of his statement is the source of the Velaryon boy’s amusement.

“Believe me, my Prince”—Laenor shakes his head sardonically—“what I would give to hear men call her that and only that, nowadays.”

“Oh, stop it, Laenor.” Rhaenyra smacks his arm chidingly, moving over to refill her goblet of wine. “If you keep that up around her, she’ll find somewhere else to hide and it’ll be that much harder to coax her out.”

“Our little princess not enjoying her royal matchmaking?”

He is intrigued by the facet of knowledge gleaned about you, his precious baby niece, his sweetling. Ah, but how like you to find the notice of others so unsettling, to be so overwhelmed by an influx of attention that you’d slip your minders to seek a place of temporary respite. He assumes the conversation has turned to the news delivered in that last letter, of the fact that you are seeking out a husband—or rather, being made to, as it now seemed. Ire tics strident along his jaw, threatening to grind his teeth into dust.

“Oh, do call her that,” Rhaenyra seats herself once more. “One more patronising pet name and she’s sure to ride off on that great beast of hers, never to return.”

Laenor is laughing once again, sitting in the seat at the head of the table and grimacing as Rhaenyra shoves his feet off the table. Daemon’s focus is drawn by mention of a beast. Last he knew, you’d not yet claimed a dragon.

“… and when you’re older,” he tells you, hand engulfing your own much smaller one, “you’ll go to Dragonstone and find yourself a hatchling, or a young dragon, or perhaps even one of the larger ones.”

“Like you and Caraxes?” you ask, head tilted up to him as you walk, seeking his assurance. “You got him when—when you were thirteen?”

He grins down at you. “That’s right.” Warm fondness wells when you wiggle happily at his approval. “And I’m sure that when you’re of suitable age, you’ll have your own chance.”

“But—but ‘Nyra got Syrax when she was seven,” you protest, stumbling over your sentence. Gods, does he miss the way your small self had pronounced ‘r’ as ‘w’, an adorable lisp that had lent unwitting comedy to all that escaped your mouth. It is strange to hear the words so carefully uttered, the slow shedding of babyhood made evident through speech. “And I am—I’m nearly four. So I have t—”

“So you have time, riñītsos.” He grows weary of your slow pace and hoists you up suddenly. Little girl, he calls you, and you are so, so little in his hold. You squeal at the motion, clinging onto his neck with tiny arms. “Don’t go rushing toward the future just yet.”

Don’t grow up, he wants to say. Don’t lose what makes you so precious to me.

“But I wanna ride a dragon just like ‘Nyra!” you chirp in his ear, high sugared voice ringing like a bell. “I want to be like you!”

He laughs, squeezing you to him. “One day,” he promises. “One day, you’ll claim yourself a mighty beast, and we’ll go flying together—how’s that?”

“Yeah!”

Unease blooms like first frost along the back of his neck, raising the hairs at his nape. Is there no vow he has broken to the girl you had been? What must you think of him now? To have found a dragon without him…

He pursues this line of conversation, eager to learn more.

“Yes, an awful-tempered wild thing she’s named ‘Afizar’ or some such—do get her to pronounce it for you, because I cannot.” At his befuddlement in expression—what does she mean, ‘wild thing’?—Rhaenyra adds, “I’m sure you would have seen it coming in on Caraxes. He’s usually menacing the skies at that time of day.”

The goliath from earlier. “That’s her dragon?” he asks incredulously. “The bastard nearly tore Caraxes from the sky!”

He cannot imagine his shy, guileless little niece claiming such a savage creature as her own mount. Perhaps he’s underestimated her.

“Sounds like him.” Laenor snorts. “Can’t believe she got that fucker to follow her here from Dragonstone. The Cannibal, if you’d believe. Nearly killed the King with fright when she landed it on Rhaenys’s Hill. Thought he was going to lock her up for the next five years.”

“He nearly did,” Rhaenyra says. “Except, after the beast ate several Dragonkeepers, the only one who could get him to calm down was her.”

The Cannibal? Seven fucking hells. So few had gotten close enough to see the beast in any detail, so it’s no wonder he’d not recognised the dragon earlier. He wonders idly if he can persuade you to introduce him. To be so close to such a force of nature…

“Well.” Laenor stands, pressing an absent-minded kiss to the top of Rhaenyra’s head. “I’d best be off—Luke has training before it gets dark.”

He heads to the door, straightening up his doublet, which has rumpled from the slouch he had been sitting in.

Rhaenyra calls to him as he shuts the door. “Make sure that those boys don’t beat him around like they did the last time!”

He makes an affirmative noise as it closes; his niece sighs at the firestorm Laenor has taken with him as he departed, leaning her head onto the back of the chair and closing her eyes.

He sees now what she has made here, the laughter that has brought lines to the corners of her eyes and the love that pervades the interactions she has with those she cares for. His heart clenches in mourning for the life he missed, the life he will never have with her. They were once reflections of each other. Now, they are strangers, memories to take forth into a new existence. He wants to be bitter, angry, resentful—but he just feels drained. Carved out. Empty. All those years wasted…

“I’d best be going,” he says softly, feet already carrying him to the door.

She murmurs something at him, too low for his hearing to pick up. He turns to face her. She’s smiling at him, though it’s a sad, wistful thing.

“I’ll see you around, Uncle.”

His mouth twists up dryly, accepting the closure as given. She’s beautiful in her wisdom, her maturity, but she’s not his—not anymore.

“I’ll see you around, niece.” He shuts the door on her. On the past.

It is an ending. He can only hope that a new beginning lay somewhere around a nearby corner, waiting to give him a reason once more.

Well—when he said he was looking for something new, he wasn’t expecting it to smack him clean across the fucking jaw quite so suddenly as this.

Daemon spends the next days idly wandering the halls, lost in thought as he considers all that had transpired between him and Rhaenyra. He wars at times between white-hot rage at what has been lost to him and the melancholy of knowing that it—she—was never truly his for the taking in the first place. It strikes him that he might relieve the strain that pulls at his mind and stiffens his joints by frequenting one of his old haunts; but then, he’s not entirely sure he has it in him to sustain his lusts long enough to spill his seed in some nameless whore’s cunt.

A royal gift for the commons to mark my return. The notion amuses him.

Today is much the same—same old bejewelled sycophants looking for leverage with the King and Council, same old perfumed halls barely concealing the ever-present stink of shit, same old serving girls and page boys darting off at the very sight of him, like he is a plague to be outrun—until it is not. The endless monotony is interrupted when he catches the metallic glint of a finely polished breastplate in the sun.

Speaking of shits…

Squinting, he looks across the way to see the staid figure of Ser Cole, Crispin or Colin or whatever his name was. Beating in a knight’s head at a royal wedding wasn’t enough to get the man exiled? he wonders, dubious. The man is standing at the entrance to the garden, staring watchfully in at its occupants, and Daemon can hear the sounds of light chatter and laughter. What the fuck?

Daemon is striding toward the Kingsguard before common sense can rein him in.

“Still here, Cole?” he asks, enjoying the look of thinly veiled vehemence on the Stormlander’s visage. “I’d have thought you’d be an exile after the little stunt you pulled at Rhaenyra’s wedding.”

He relishes in the further lines of tension that spread across his face. Perhaps the only enjoyable part of that day had been watching the knight slay a royal guest during festivities, in front of all and sundry. It was remarkably transparent of him—what man didn’t desire his eldest niece? He wonders if she’d bothered to let him into her cunt, or if he was still pining pathetically.

He refuses to consider the potential that such a thing would make them more similar than different.

“The Queen was charitable enough to advocate for my continued presence, my Prince.” The knight narrows his eyes at him. “Unlike some, I was seen to have use yet.”

Daemon cannot help it. He laughs, impressed and infuriated and enraged by this juvenile upstart from some little-known region of Westeros. Who does he think he is?

“And indeed, you are! A fine guard, truly—of a tree.”

“I am the Princess’s sworn shield,” Cole says hotly before catching himself, reining himself in. The man exhales and returns to that vacant, accommodating stance that had first tickled Daemon with enough amusement that he felt it worth venturing over to have fun.

“How interesting.” Daemon steps closer to the man, forcing him to look up into his line of sight. ‘Tis an exercise of dominance if there ever was one. “I seem to recall you had sworn yourself to the elder one, not the younger; Rhaenyra is safely up in her chambers now.”

For whom else could Ser Cristian mean if not you, his little girl?

In three days, he had yet to encounter you. Always there is an excuse presented via messenger to the expectant ears of the King at mealtimes. Whether it be tutoring, minding your nephews and littlest brothers, or simply nowhere to be found, you are a whisper on the wind, a person in name only. If it were not for the frequent mentions of you made in casual conversation across the Keep, he would think you did not exist at all.

Cole smiles tensely. “Allegiances change.”

Daemon quirks a brow at the admission, not having expected such a sentimental acknowledgement from the knight. A change of loyalty, eh? Well, he shall have to see what it is that has turned Caradoc’s head so. Stepping away from the guard with a mocking little twist of the lips, he treads forward into the garden.

What had long been a place of silent contemplation is now alight with the sound of merriment. A group of young ladies all sit about on laid-out furs, giggling over grapes and sweet-wine. It is an endearing display of girlish delight that would have made any other man smile at the scene before him. Daemon is not other men. Staring upon the scene, he wonders darkly at just how many of them he could persuade to let him slip a hand into their smallclothes, to pry apart their coltish thighs, to wet his cock on their maiden’s blood and hear them scream.

He snorts at the thought. Knowing King’s Landing, I’d wager at least half of these girls have already trysted with some man or another.

He rolls his eyes at the sight of that crotchety old Septa—Marlow, was it?—the very same wretch to have ruled Rhaenyra’s childhood household with an iron fist and stern voice, sitting undercover with a silver-haired girl. At first, he thinks this is you. But upon looking at her closer, he sees the Hightower bitch pasted over Valyrian colouring, limbs too long and spindly, not as comely as your little-girl self had promised to be.

Wrinkling his nose slightly, he realises this must be the smaller one. Helen? Helaenys? He cannot think of her name, and nor does he care to know it. Casting his eye across the landscape, he frowns as he fails to see the form of a second silver-haired girl.

“Your Highness!”

Ah, fuck, his mind supplies. The old sow has seen me.

The hag’s eyes are upon him disapprovingly, and it pleases him wryly that he can at least count upon her to remain unchanged by time. Septa Marlow had never liked him, had constantly reproved Rhaenyra for being taken in by his gifts, his attentions, his flattery. He supposes she was right to be so concerned for her naïve charge.

“You have returned.” She sounds disappointed.

“Septa,” he says, bowing to her, though he’s sure the derisiveness of the movement is not lost upon her. There it is—her eyes narrow, lips pursing as she glares at him disfavourably. The young one tracks the interaction with a tilt to her head, wondering just who had come to disturb the peace of the afternoon. “It is truly a delight to see you once again.” Old cunt.

“Hm.” She turns back to the young girl before her.

No doubt proselytising about the dangers of letting a reprobate like me see so much as a slip of an ankle beneath her skirts, he thinks scornfully.

Once it is clear that is all he will get out of the old bitch, he wanders further into the garden. He smirks in an affectation of gentility as the girls whisper to themselves, staring at him, likely plotting their way into his line of sight.

As he passes the shade of the tree, he receives his first glimpse of you in ten years.

You are laid outstretched on the bare grass in a pretty summer gown of pale violet, so like the gown you’d worn that night, the night he’d left you, and your legs are folded at the ankle. He can see the limbs twine through your skirts, the barest hint of calf and thigh contoured by the dip in the layers of silken fabric, and your wild pale hair—that same untameable mess, artful now where it had been unsophisticated once—spills carelessly in a halo about your head. Your eyes are closed, your smile tipped up to the warming sun, your once-cherubic face lengthened, defined. He tracks the familiar slope of your nose, the arch of newly unveiled cheekbones and plumped lips, a red-mouthed nymphet of a girl become a woman in his absence.

Fucking—fucking fuck—

He cannot stop himself from studying you, tracing the curve of your bared neck—and why is the sight so obscene, gods help him—the spill of your tits regrettably encased in the cut of your gown and the way your little hands clasp together in chaste repose under your bust, highlighting the blooming of your body.

The sight exhilarates him. It devastates him. Who the fuck is this—this Maiden come to life, this princess-shaped, doe-eyed dream of a girl? Certainly not the child he had left behind, for there is nothing gangling or babyish about you now. He is utterly annoyed with himself at having expected some flat-chested, androgynous approximation of that little girl grown up.

He calls your name, and your startled head whips to face him directly. Your eyes open and widen in shock and confusion, a quizzical furrowing of brows disturbing the peace that had smoothed your expression only moments before. You sit up further as he advances towards you, making no move to leap up from your place situated below him. ‘Tis a place for gullible girls with pillow-soft lips and pink little tongues held out in prayer, begging to lap up his milk—but you only stare up at him, an utter lack of comprehension on your face. It is then that he knows, as only a man who’d stolen the virtue of half the ingenues now selling their wares in the Street of Silk could know.

How could he have stayed away for so long when an unspoiled prize such as you awaited a conqueror to snatch her up, to teach her what pleasures could be found in defeat?

How could he have stayed away when you—his littlest princess—awaited your beloved kepa?

“Hello, sweetling,” he says, crouching down beside you.

He feels a vicious sense of satisfaction when your brows uncurl, wet posy-petal lips unfurling into an open-mouthed expression of awareness as you recognise the sound of him, take in the ashen hue of his hair and the long-forgotten features that comprise a familiar face.

“Uncle Daemon?” you ask softly.

Uncle Daemon… you promised. Two images are affixed in his mind’s eye, the you of the past and the you before him now, warping and blending confusingly. It alarms him—excites him—to feel the twitch of his cock in his breeches. How can he debase an affection so pure as the one he bears for you?

And yet—as he looks upon you—how can he not?

Self-reproach stirs in his gut as he takes in the slow-dawning smile upon your face, the look of a little girl who’s favourite long-distant uncle has finally come home.

“I did not know you had returned!” you breathe.

Daemon shifts to sit before you properly, gaze roving. He takes in the tumble of Valyrian-white spilling from your crown, the dusky lavender-bruise of your eyelids, the cinch at your waist and all that damnable skin begging for hands to map its surface.

How did you not know? he wonders. It is surely all the city had been gossiping of since his homecoming.

This is not what he chooses to say. “I did not announce my arrival.”

You nod an acknowledgement, humming gently. Then, your eyes—deep lilac, soft, the same as they had ever been—flick to his. “You have been gone for so long, Uncle.”

A wistful sort of sadness, wrenching, steals the insistence from your voice. All at once, your expression is an echo of the forlorn girl he’d all but abandoned in the chill of evening, wide wet stare and trembling bottom lip and flushed nose, though the present display incites an unnerving pulse of—something—in his lower back, in his groin.

Your words speak to a greater loss than just his absence. Who has taken care of you since I left, my girl?

There is an ever-growing inkling taking shape in the back of his mind that you’ve been as terribly isolated as he has been all these years. Any other possibility seems daft upon reflection. With naught to yourself but a sister and father with their own new families and an old Septa to punish your desire before it is even allowed to spring into fruition, how could you have been anything other than bereft?

“It seems I have.” Though Daemon rails at the injustice of it, of a world in which you had not received every little thing you wanted, his taste for debauchery rules him. Helplessly, his scrutiny falls again to the figure below the face. He spies the hint of a collarbone as it peeks out from under an irritatingly high neckline, the darling swell of tits playing at the game of adulthood before they have been invited to the gathering, the flare of hips shrouded in damnable silks and satins. “You were a little girl when I left. Look at you now!”

At that, you laugh. “I still am.” You smile. “I am not so changed, really.”

He cannot resist but to picture that very same smile, lips wide-stretched and exhilarated as your downy-soft cheek nuzzles between his legs like a cat seeking cream. Little girl, little pet, you could be as guileless as you’d like on your knees, wide-eyed ‘kepus?’ as he tugs his laces undone to reveal his—

Fuck’s sake. He swallows, yanks back the tidal wave.

“Surely not.” His eyes rove again over you, uncontrollable, his hand reaching out to tuck the hair behind your ear before he has truly thought it through. “There’s not a trace of ‘little’ before me, talītsos”—the old pet name springs out unbidden—“but a woman grown!”

The turn of conversation—the turn in his behaviour—makes you uncomfortable. He can tell from the way your shoulders stiffen and your spine straightens, from the way you break eye contact with him and shift away ever so slightly, from the pretty peevish set of your rosebud mouth.

“You know, then? What I have been asked by Papa?”

In this, he sees Rhaenyra—the unwillingness to hedge, the direct line of pursuit—though the uneasiness is new. So too is the lack of delight at the pronouncement; it is the greatest wish of all young ladies to be perceived as mature, coveted, worthy of the attention of men. He knows this from experience. And yet, it seems you crave existence of another kind, a wish for anonymity most unlike the spoiled haughtiness of the highborn.

Strange.

It is frustrating, too, to be countered so early in the game of desire. He’d never had to coax out a maiden for long, the allure of his exterior qualities and his princely title and his roguish charm making even the most pious of virgins a willing whore without much work. He had certainly never had to lead Rhaenyra much, for she was all too eager to follow him to the darkness.

A small part of him is raging at the larger, how could you disgrace her so, how could you ply her with your cad’s tricks, but it is growing ever easier to ignore it. The temptation is too great.

“He mentioned it,” Daemon chuckles at the twitch your eye makes at the knowledge. This is different, a concrete evolution that helps ground him in reality, helps him resist the call of memory and the child you’d been. “Why—are your suitors so terrible?”

You sigh, looking down, twisting your hands in the skirts of your dress the way you did as a child. Like it had been when he’d first set sights on your elder sister, he finds that the comparison is becoming less and less disturbing. A moment to grow accustomed to the idea, he thinks, that is all. Child become woman become lover—it is practically a rite of passage for Targaryens to find their way into the beds of their own kin.

Could I? Dare I? As he stares at you, he finds he knows not.

You glance down at your lap. “I do not thi—”

“Princess!” the Septa calls, interrupting you.

Daemon’s gaze settles on her, the drab crone herself, face like thunder as she watches you both from the path. Her hand is out, ushering you forth. Like a marionette whose strings are being jerked, you stumble to your feet, brush the grass from your skirts—revealing the shape of your arse, and if that doesn’t set off a fresh round of depraved musings—and make for your minder, heeding the call as faithfully as any hound.

Then, you turn back. “Oh!”

You look to him startled, as though something has just occurred to you. You plod back up the hill as if on tiptoes, dainty, dropping to his side. Before his foul thoughts have the opportunity to register such a boon, you press your lips to his cheek, a whisper of “farewell, kepus” and the faint scent of rose oil heralding your departure.

In your absence, his head hurts, catastrophic in the wake of such momentous overhaul. He slumps on the grass, staring off into the distance, disoriented by the revelation of you.

Well. Fuck.

Read the story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105793659

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

Now in the comments!

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variousqueerthings · 5 months

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thing about rose, for me, is that she wasn't there first -- this in a "she was first in nu!who in the sense that this was the first person to travel with nine, and the first person since the timewar, and the last person that nine was with, to the point that ten was born out of that experience/modelled on her."

and in that framing, I am a big fan of her haunting of the narrative, because it start outs with her placing herself inside the doctor's ribcage and rebooting their ability to want to feel things, but unfortunately rose is still a human, like every human the doctor travelled with before, it's just that the doctor forgot how to steel themself against that inevitability because of the circumstances around meeting rose

this is The thing that I find tragic about martha, because I think she could have been that person, if she'd been the first person post-timewar to travel with the doctor, but because she's coming in during bleeding-heart times, she's got to deal with triage instead. and yes, there are wonders, and yes, there are good times, but for a lot of it, it's shrapnel, and I think if it hadn't been, she would have had a very different attitude towards *waves hands* space and time travel and aliens and the universe (one where she wouldn't be the person trusted with something like the osterhagen key)

and donna had a sense of that Space the doctor was in post-rose (she canonically stopped the doctor from dying in runaway bride) and stepped away from it, and didn't get back to the doctor until some of that hole-in-chest had been bandaged up, which martha did a great job of, but didn't get to really benefit from, and I think that's the sad thing about martha jones, is that she absolutely got a taste of the beauty and the splendor, but never without all the violence and heave weight that was put onto her

which, again, she seems to have been very aware of, considering she joined UNIT and Torchwood. her eyes were barely ever rose tinted (no pun here) during her whole journey in the story. martha really is in my opinion the most tragic companion (that I've met so far, I know Adric straight up dies, but maybe he had some fun times before that?), because yes, donna loses her memories and rose is in a parallel universe, but that's more tragic for the doctor -- they've both built lives

in donna's case there's probably a lot of imperfection in that life, but clearly a lot of joy as well, with her and her husband and her kid and her mum, and I'm sure she'd have preferred to be the donna who saw the universe and was splendid, but martha never gets to forget, and has to continue her life one step out of sync of everything she could have been

which, maybe her life is pretty flipping fantastic, but we really don't know, which is the biggest thing I side-eye about the first nu!who era. that whole weird ending with the sontaran and mickey is like... anti-character work, it answers nothing and it makes very little sense

all I know about her at the end is that she more than anyone saw the doctor's life and became a soldier (still a doctor as well, but...) because that was the work she saw needed doing, and she's the kind of person who does what needs doing. but is she... okay? youknow?

but going back to the original point, is that framing martha through the lens of rose is all well and good in the sense that rose is the reason the doctor is at that emotional point when he meets martha -- although donna absolutely had a very big hand in that as well -- but once we've established that, martha's arc is martha's arc, and it's dull to me to frame it as the "rebound" arc or even particularly about alloromanticism (including -- and this is why i get why people do it in fandom -- some shit said by rtd, which is just less interesting than what I get out of it, so shhhh)

she's got so much going on, and her relationship with the doctor changes the trajectory of her life, and it's in many ways a more interesting and far less straightforward trajectory of bad-to-better that many companions get -- it's a wonderfully complicated narrative that (and again, I get that some of this comes from within deliberate framings of the text, even though I think it's more than open enough to do more with, death of the author and all that -- but certainly not all of this is text either, some of it is ignoring what is actually there) is done a disservice by not going through the real messed up fascinating extraordinary shit that's going on during her era + arc in s4

but also... is she ok? I want to know. it's one of my top three burning questions, since we're getting a bit of best-ofs of the noughties DW era, some of your crimes can be righted by a simple bit of martha mr davies

#me wanting to see martha in the 60th just to confirm she's doing okay #pls 🥺👉👈#tbh im sure freema is doing Stuff but she shoulda been in at least one UNIT episode in m*ffat or chibnall era #martha jones #doctor who #dw #doctor who meta #this is very rambly #i think for example martha in sontaran stratagem is severely underrated because she gets captured and has to be saved #(she does stuff as well but also the above)#but it's a role reversal between her and the doctor in s3! she's constantly saving the doctor in s3 she's constantly saying I've got you #and in that episode the doctor saves her and says it back!#arghhhhh someone hold martha for me my love who always has to be so strong

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jupitercomet · 10 months

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I Swear Somewhere This Works: Prologue

summary - You've known your entire life that you were meant to be with Bradley Bradshaw. Born with the rare gift of being a "matchmaker", you've been able to see your soulmate connection since childhood, just like you see the romantic pairings of everyone around you. But while everyone saw that as a gift, you see it as a curse. Because what's the point of knowing Bradley's your soulmate if he's never fallen in love with you? You've tried, altering time and space with your gift to find the one iteration of your life that you and Bradley are fated to be together. And, in every iteration of your life, you have to watch Bradley fall in love with someone else. But everything changes when one of these iterations puts you right in the trajectory of Jake, a matchmaker who's determined to convince you that the universe isn't always right.

warnings - soulmate au, my first time writing a love triangle, language, talks of death/dying, mentions of hospitals, no use of y/n, both Bradley and Jake are 6'7" because I said so

word count - 2.3k

i swear somewhere this works masterlist

I swear somewhere…

The heart monitor beeps continuously, filling the room with a kind of white noise that’s almost relaxing, despite the circumstances. The IV bag drips, drips, drips right past a strip of medical tape and into worn, leathered skin. It’s all so hazy, like early rides to the airport or empty shopping malls where time feels frozen, and you want to fill the silence with something—anything—but all you do is listen to the heart monitor and watch the IV bag drip, drip, drip.

“What do you think happens when we die?”

“Don’t say things like that, Bradley.”

He chuckles, but it’s hoarse and weathered, sounding more like air being pushed out of his tired, weary lungs. “I don’t think not talking about it is going to stop me from dying, Fig.”

Looking at him now, tucked under a tightly woven hospital blanket, he still looks like your Bradley. Curious, kind eyes wrinkled with crows feet etched into his skin from every laugh and smile that took place in his lifetime. There’s still that crook in his nose from when he broke it when he was eight. It never did heal right, but Bradley never seemed to mind. He’d break it twice more over his life and every time you recalled the stories you’d joke that it’s a miracle the cartilage hasn’t just fallen off yet. But, much like who it belonged to, Bradley’s nose was stubborn.

He looks like your Bradley, with his kind eyes and crooked nose. But he’s not your Bradley.

His hair is almost gone now, wispy and thin like it’s just laying on his scalp. Sun spots cover his skin, his complexion pale and fragile. And normally that would scare you, such an obvious display of his mortality, but it looks good on Bradley. He looks like he lived.

With large hands that have held the weight of the world, and then children, and then grandchildren. Chapped lips that have spoken more words of love, and compassion, and happiness than you would ever have time to listen to. Once sturdy legs that have now turned frail, the bones eroded with how many places they have taken him to.

And so he’s not quite your Bradley anymore, not in the way he was. Not in the way he could have been.

“I think I’m ready,” Bradley wets his lips, hardly moving his neck from his propped up pillow to look at you. “To die, I mean.”

Your hand squeezes in his—worn, and old, and not yours—his words constricting your heart in a dulled sort of melancholy. You’ve already gone through the five stages of grief weirdly, usually you aren’t this ready for it. But denial turned to anger, turned to bargaining, turned to depression, and here you are at acceptance, holding the hand of the only person who has ever mattered as he looks entirely dead and entirely alive all at the same time.

“Well, I’m not,” you say finally. It comes out shaky, maybe because you don’t entirely mean it. You are ready. You just wish you weren’t.

Bradley meets your eye with an understanding that only comes with age. “Yes, you are.”

You hate how well he knows you. How he can read you with just a look and say the words you need to hear. He knows everything about you. And yet.

“Will you miss me?” You ask instead. It’s an empty question—irrelevant. But still you want to know. Just to be reassured that Bradley even cares about you a fraction of the amount you do for him. That maybe he’ll realize, just once, in this hazy capsule of time, that you matter more to him than anything ever should.

Bradley smiles at you sadly. “Of course I will. When have I ever not needed my Fig?”

Your lips quirk up just slightly and you look down at your interlocked hands. “I cannot believe I’m 77 and you’re still calling me that.” You look up again to meet his eye, pretending to shake your head in exasperation.

“And I cannot believe that you’re 77 and still think you can hide things from me.” The crows feet by Bradley’s eyes crinkle when you fail to register what he’s referencing. “I see you sneaking off to the vending machine to get Fig Newtons when you think I’m asleep.” When your lips part in unprepared surprise, Bradley croaks out a laugh. “I’m 84, not senile.”

Even now, he makes your cheeks heat and you huff in your fluster. “Well, can you blame me? I’ve been eating nothing but hospital food for the past week.”

Your words make you falter, a crack of lightning in the room that illuminates everything you wish to forget. When the world feels so hazy, you can trick yourself into thinking that time is entirely frozen. It’s just you and Bradley and the universe. You can talk about anything—your love of Fig Newtons and how the hospital vending machine has criminally overpriced them—because you have time. All you have is time.

But time is running out, like granules of sand in an hourglass. Seconds with Bradley tick away and you can run after them all you want, but all they do is slip through your fingers. Slip, slip, slip.

If Bradley is affected by your words, he doesn’t look it, a calm sense of serenity washing through his eyes. For a moment, you can pretend that you would be okay with this, that you can finally let Bradley go. But it’s a little too late for that, you suppose. Because, somewhere, this has to work. Somewhere, you know everything about Bradley and he knows everything about you and he never has to stop being your Bradley.

It’s just as much for Bradley as it is for you. You’re his soulmate. Wouldn’t he be so much happier than this, having lived with his soulmate? You’re meant to be together and that’s all that matters. One of these times, Bradley will see that. You know he will.

“Can I get you some wa—”

“I’m going to die tomorrow,” Bradley decides.

You freeze, your question dying in your throat. There’s nothing else to say, you’ve done this song and dance enough times to know that. You only nod, pursing your lips to hold back the tears pricking at your waterline. You’re out of time.

Bradley turns to you with that familiar, childlike hope he somehow clung to his entire life. “Will you share a Fig Newton with me before I do?”

You swallow, your fingers tensing so much that the muscles twitch and you hide the hand from his view. “Of course.” You lift his hand to press a soft kiss on the back.

Bradley smiles and you feel like you’re going to be sick. He closes his eyes, shifting under the hospital blankets to get comfortable and you let out a silent sigh. You only get minutes of conversation with him now, before he’s too tired to continue. You sit with him anyway and, as he sleeps, you say all the things you never did over the decades of your friendship. He never remembered it anyway.

Bradley’s hand relaxes in your grip, the heart monitor spiking and dipping with his heart, and you try not to think about how he’s dying.

“This is going to sound like I’m crazy.” You look up at the sound of Bradley’s quiet voice, sleep tugging at the ends of it as his eyes remain closed. “But I can feel Alice waiting for me.”

He can’t see it, but you force a smile anyway, swallowing down the bile in your throat. You don’t say anything—you don’t think Bradley expects you to. That hazy feeling settles over the room as his breath evens out and, for several minutes, all you can do is watch him.

Maybe this isn’t fair.

But if this isn’t fair, then none of it is. Why would the universe give you a soulmate who didn’t love you? Why did you deserve to watch him fall in love over and over again while you waste your life pinning over a man who’s never even looked your way? Didn’t you deserve to be happy? Didn’t Bradley?

You look down at his sleeping features, entirely relaxed like he’s not plagued with a single regret or an ounce of hesitance. Maybe it’s because you’re full of it, taking it all for him because you don’t know how to do anything else. The heart monitor beeps continuously. The IV bag drips, drips, drips. And you close your eyes.

…this works

Sunlight filters in through the windows, waking Jake gently as he stretches out his legs on the sheets of his bed. He’s still in that peaceful period between wake and sleep, enjoying the warmth of his blanket as he regains feeling of his muscles. The first thing he realizes is that he doesn’t hear seven of his bones cracking. The second thing he realizes is that he’s very, very sore.

Jake sits up with a start, whipping his head towards the floor length mirror propped up by his dresser. He’s met with striking olive eyes and appropriately trimmed blond hair. He knew it.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Jake groans, rubbing at his eyes as he gets up from bed. He’s getting tired of this. He hadn’t said anything the first time it happened, nor the second, nor the third. But rewinding his life back to 31 for the fourth time? It’s getting ridiculous.

Moving into his bathroom, he puts his toothbrush into his mouth with a little more force than necessary as he wraps his head around having to live out the rest of his life again. Everyone else was lucky, at least they don’t know they’re reliving their lives every few decades. But not Jake, Jake knows. Just like how he knows everything about this shitty soulmate system. And so Jake is stuck living his life over and over until someone gets to be with their soulmate.

For a while, Jake had no idea who that person could be—there’s an infinite number of people he could have come into contact with, that’s just kind of how civilization works. But then it kept happening and the puzzle pieces kept fitting and Jake has a pretty good idea as to what’s going on.

He cannot believe his life is being actively ruined because of Bradley fucking Bradshaw.

At first, Jake didn’t think anything of the brunet and his infamous best friend/soulmate who had just moved to town. But it wasn’t hard to piece together the one-sided lingering looks and the somewhat charged interactions at the Hard Deck whenever Bradley had a bit too much to drink. You were in love with Bradley, that much was obvious. What hadn’t been as obvious was that you had the power to try to make him fall in love with you too. Which would be all well and dandy, if you hadn’t also dragged Jake into it in the process. He’s almost positive you’re the reason he’s currently reliving his life for the fourth time and Jake refuses to make it five.

Throwing an old shirt over his head, Jake exits his bedroom to snatch a banana from his kitchen counter. He eats it in large mouthfuls, lacing up his running shoes before making sure he has his phone and keys. Moving to throw away the banana peel, Jake also quickly grabs a water bottle and fills it up with cold, tap water in the sink.

Though he’s frustrated, Jake can admit that it’s nice to be in a body so young again. Granted, he’s currently suffering from the pushups Maverick must have put him through yesterday, but he’ll take that over the random aches and creaks he used to feel for seemingly no reason other than age.

With one last check to make sure he has everything, Jake opens the front door of his house, making quick work of the walkway steps as he breaks out into a light jog. His tennis shoes absorb the impact of his strides as he picks up speed, smiling politely at the woman he passes walking her dog. Taking a deep breath of the Miramar air, Jake takes the turn out of his neighborhood, his feet still crunching against the concrete.

He doesn’t entirely have a plan, all he knows is that he can’t keep doing this. And especially for this stupid of a reason. Jake had always been skeptical about the whole “soulmate” thing. Growing up, people always told him how special he was for being granted the ability to see soulmates, Jake just thought it was more trouble than it was worth. Now Jake knows definitively that soulmates are bullshit and he’s not about to let it ruin his life again.

The houses begin picking up in proximity again as Jake makes his way to another neighborhood. Sweat has started forming on his hairline, not quite enough to be droplets yet, and Jake wipes it with the back of his hand. He keeps running until a small, light blue house with purple flowers in the front and a brightly painted mailbox comes into view.

Jake slows to a stop, letting out a pant and taking a gulp of water before he starts walking towards the front door. He doesn’t have a plan, but he can’t keep doing this. Wiping some sweat from the back of his neck, Jake gently knocks on the door. When a minute goes by and there’s nothing, he knocks again, slightly louder.

This time there’s the sound of shuffling inside and Jake lets his shoulders slump as he catches his breath on the porch. The sound of footsteps gets closer and Jake swallows thickly, trying not to fidget. With a rickety creak, the door opens. You fill the doorway suddenly, still in pajamas and a sleepy expression, squinting at the sunlight you’ve let in.

Your eyes meet his and Jake watches your face crinkles with recognition and then confusion. “Hi?”

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agender-witchery · 10 months

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Canto IV was really good

Project Moon does a cool thing that I really like with their stories, which in theory isn't really anything special, but I see so few stories do this that it really does single Project Moon out in my mind.

Each Project Moon game is in a dialogue with itself, having a discussion about politics and philosophy and society in general. They universally present the status quo as Not Great which is... evident for anyone living in the real world, but importantly to me, they do not present any proper answers to this.

This isn't to say that Project Moon stories are fence sitting nonsense that call for the importance of meeting in the middle, that's your own decision on whether you think that's worthwhile. And Project Moon DOES express opinions in the world they have created, so they're not cowards in that sense either. It's pretty clear, at least to me, that they believe things in our world do have to change, that the vision of capitalism that exists in the City is horrendous, and that we in the real world are on a clear trajectory toward the world of the City if action is not taken.

However, the way they frame the two opposing sides of each argument they present is important. And key to that framing is that in every game you play antisocial, morally dubious murderers. This is a constant. The people you're fighting aren't the good guys, but hey, neither are you.

In Ruina, when it comes down to the final confrontation with the Reverberation Ensemble, you are presented with two opposing ideals. Carmen and the Ensemble would love nothing more than to see the world torn down in its entirety, built back up in their own imagining of an ideal society. The Librarians, on the other hand, are there to fight against that notion, that the world they have as it is can be changed.

And while I definitely fall on the side of "maybe there's hope to be had in this dying, hellish apocalypse" I do GET where the Ensemble is coming from. I GET what Carmen's trying to do. It's a naive and childish attempt at creating a better world from the ashes of the old, an idea whose inevitable result is tyranny, but to someone who's already experiencing tyranny, tyranny but this time you're on top seems appealing. And I also understand that, for the Librarians, even if the ultimate goal here is to create a better society without that sort of tyranny, well you're kind of murdering people to achieve that.

And I think all this plays into why I enjoyed Canto IV so much. First off, the main conflict in Canto IV isn't between Limbus Company and another group, it's the conflict between K Corp and the Technology Liberation Alliance, which can be further distilled down to the conflict between Dongrang and Dongbaek.

In the case of K Corp, they're a bunch of utilitarians, people who say that even torture is acceptable if it leads to lives saved. And they quite literally do this, torturing the Tearful Thing in literally every possible way, just to produce the tears needed for regeneration ampules, forcing it to cry for the sake of others. Dongbaek doesn't even fully refute that this might be useful, but she does assert that if you're going to go to these lengths, there better be a foreseeable end to it, you better be curing EVERYONE.

And then we have the TLA, a bunch of anprims who aren't exactly wrong in the assertion that the way technology is used within the City causes immeasurable harm, but do come to the wrong conclusion that ALL tech needs to be incinerated. And, for them to come against K Corp specifically is significant, because sure, K Corp literally tortures people to produce their ampules, but the results are tangible. Lives are, in fact, saved, even if we discount the K Corp Security that will cut their own limbs off just to get healed.

And where Canto IV manages to stop saying "both sides bad" is in bringing Limbus Company back into the equation. A third party, who doesn't adhere to the ideals of either side.

Does Limbus Company have perfect answers to resolve this conflict? No, you're still a bunch of murderers. But they do present a third perspective, that instead of looking only at total harm done and coming to the conclusion that torture is acceptable, and instead of looking at all the injustices caused and coming to the conclusion that the entire world needs to be reset, through exploring the fathoms of Yi Sang's EGO, we can come to consider the possibility of caring for the individual. That yes, this world is fucked up and living in it can itself be considered a crime against humanity, but that doesn't mean you can't help someone in a way that doesn't hurt someone else. Yi Sang went from being horribly depressed with nothing in this world, someone who desperately wanted to die and couldn't even be afforded that mercy, to someone who finally smiled. The world is still fucked up, and we don't really have a solution to that, but we at least made it a little bit brighter for one person, and in the future, we can keep doing that.

And also? Canto IV introduced Alfonso so really it's just the best chapter.

#my nonsense #project moon #lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #limbus company #spoilers #Limbus Canto IV #i know i massively simplified both Ruina and Canto IV but I'm writing a tumblr post not my PhD thesis #go play Project Moon games there's a lot more nuance to them than what I've presented here #this isn't even a comprehensive analysis of why I enjoyed Canto IV this is just one specific aspect of it that I liked

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songsofadelaide · 3 months

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Paraselene

On one side of the coin of fate, Okkotsu Yuuta stopped wanting things ever since he lost one most precious to him, even though it was due to circumstances beyond his control. He decided against wanting anything ever again.

And on the other side… As a beloved daughter of an age-old sorcerer clan, you often got everything you wanted. That is why you were allowed to grace the stage of many of Tokyo's extravagant places of gathering as one of this generation's most popular idols. And upon meeting Yuuta for the first time, you resolved that this man would be no exception— that you would get him, too— no matter how hard he tried to evade you and your most curious gaze.

Though admittedly, he didn't try very hard.

Still reeling from an overseas mission, Special Grade Sorcerer and for-hire bodyguard Okkotsu Yuuta gets roped into a one-night stand with a retiring idol trying to evade an unwanted engagement arranged by her family— and the choice that changes the trajectory of both your lives.

[An Okkotsu Yuuta x Reader AU one-shot]

cw/tw: female reader, reader is an idol, sorcerer x idol romance au where things are all well (but not really), original characters, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too), song fic, inaccurate depictions of idol life, fluff, slice of life, some fun until it's not, it's kind of slow burn but maybe not really, mentions of heartbroken gay men because of the stigma, Nana and Soul Eater references, the Zenins are assholes here, too, mentions of the death of a loved one, arranged marriages and family traditions and breaking said family traditions, and a lovely, happy ending (for those who want to know beforehand)— ✦ oc guide here wc: 22.5k

— The boy in the shadows and the girl with stars in her eyes.

"Whenever I look at you, your shadow seems to cast a smile— hiding your teardrops from me secretly, like you always do—"

Simply put, Yuuta was tired.

It hasn't been a full 24 hours since he returned from the peacekeeping mission in Monaco that was previously assigned to him by his superior, but here he was with said superior, standing among the audience of a full Yokohama Arena. The lights, music, costumes and stage design were all so artfully made, its calibre unlike anything he had ever seen before— and it was all for the graduation of the centre of sensational idol group Rose Gold.

"See her? The one in the sparkling red dress."

The boy with dark eyes followed his teacher's steady and slender finger as he pointed at the bright stage just mere steps away from where they were standing in the audience.

There were five girls in total, but his eyes were drawn to the very same one the older man was pointing at.

"The centre?" He responded, squinting at the brightness of the stage to help his vision adjust and focus on the figure happily waving in the middle, all spotlights on her as she moved her glossy lips to sing to the audience.

"Hope always may be found in the water's evidence— The loneliness of silence, oh, yes, I know that well, too—"

Pretty, he thought to himself as he was allowed a moment to rest his eyes on you.

"And do you see that thing over there?" His teacher then pointed overhead, just above the steel truss holding all the colourful lights illuminating the stage. Yuuta saw the shadow of a cursed spirit hovering above the centre of the performance, the girl in the sequined dress seemingly sparkling on stage and unaware of the danger that loomed over her.

But dense, he shook his head. "All right. I know what to do."

"Then the future starts to move, racing on— Open up the door! It's what you're searching for…"

"E—motion!" The enthusiastic crowd sang along, followed by the flickering of thousands of multicoloured light sticks illuminating the arena even further, like twinkling stars reflected in the inky ocean waves.

"Suddenly, I know this sky— It's the one that's in my dreams! So anxiously, my heart resounds, passionate and warm!"

Yuuta quietly got up from his seat and shuffled out of the audience, seemingly disappearing backstage with his blade concealed under his jacket. He walked unnoticed, melting into the background as the melodious song filled the still air.

"Secretly, I long to repeat these dreams I had of you… So quietly, just close your eyes and hold me in your arms!"

The blood rushing through your ears and the heavy pounding of your heart flooded your senses as the final bow call started, wet palms taking wet palms as your group granted your most grateful audience a graceful bow in unison. You could only look up in anticipation as the spotlights drew to a close, the dark energy you had been keeping an eye on for days just gone.

And how odd it was that it just vanished after it metastasised into something you knew you couldn't do anything about if it went berserk all of a sudden.

As your fellow idols shuffled off the stage to prepare for the after-concert handshake event, you stood there pondering the events of this show and the disappearance of the cursed spirit that had been plaguing you for weeks, the ache in your feet from the high heels you wore going unnoticed until your manager called your attention.

Kagomura Sana was one of the few adults you trusted at your talent agency. Rose Gold was composed of five girls— each one with their own manager who reported to the group's main handler, whom you only know as Kyou-san. You didn't care much for the other managers or for Kyou-san, but Sana was someone special to you— she knew you and your peculiar circumstances, and why you were graduating at the height of your group's success.

"Otome! It's Gojo-san! He's here to see you!"

Snapping out of your reverie, you were approached by two figures, the more familiar one flashing his million-dollar smile at you, bright blue eyes concealed under a pair of darkened sunglasses. In his hands was a bouquet of soft pink roses that added an even softer splash of colour to the exquisitely made crimson dress you were wearing.

"Yo, ojou-chan!"

"Satoru nii-san!" You beamed at him like you were still onstage, your arms open to receive the blooms bundled in white and pink crepe paper. "Thank you for coming, even though I know Kazu nii-san asked for your help with that, um, thing…"

"Oh, that?" Gojo Satoru raised a thoughtful hand to his chin. "Your brother mentioned it, but we didn't expect it to grow that huge. Either someone's super mad or super obsessed with you."

"Or both," you groaned, cradling the flowers close to your chest. "But still, I must thank you for handling that thing in a… clean way. Anything other than that would have spooked everyone onstage and would have caused a scene…"

"You should be thanking him," the older man jerked his thumb at the younger man standing behind him. "This is his mission, after all."

"I see," you replied with a nod, curiously peering over Satoru's right arm. "Then I must thank you for exorcising that curse, jujutsu-shi."

The younger sorcerer was slightly startled by your approach, even more so when you extended your finely manicured hand for a handshake, your wrist bejewelled with frilly bracelets adorned with fine plastic crystals.

"It's no problem," said Yuuta. His smile was that of someone not entirely sure what he should do, but he gently took your hand in his and gave it a short shake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you realised it wasn't another old man with Satoru, but a young sorcerer around your age instead. "O-Oh! I-I didn't know you were just a boy! I thought Satoru nii-san brought another old man like him again."

"Hey! I'm not that old!"

Yuuta saw the abundance of stars in your eyes as you nervously smiled and rambled at him, not at all minding how you grasped him with a sweaty hand. His teacher's rant faded into the air as he mustered a small smile. There was an assortment of equally sparkling jewellery and adornments on your pulled-up hair and right now he was unconsciously thinking you were just as pretty up close as you were on stage earlier.

"Now that the two of you have been introduced, we should get down to business," Satoru started. "Yuuta's been tasked with searching for the one responsible for all these curses, ojou-chan. I know you have your ever-faithful guardian Yohan-san with you, but Yuuta will stick around to look after you as well."

"I suppose nii-san petitioned this to the magic school," you said with a sigh, only to brighten up with a smile as you clutched the younger man's hand even closer. "Yuuta-san, isn't it? You must allow me to treat you as thanks."

"No worries, ojou-san," he replied, echoing how his superior addressed you before softly gesturing to your sparkling outfit. "But won't you have a hard time moving around?"

His assumption elicited an even softer laugh from you. You graciously gave him your name before finally replying. "I won't go out like this, of course. I must apologise in advance, though, as I still have my final handshake event to get to. It may take some time…"

"Please don't worry about it," the young man reassured you. "It's my duty to keep you safe while you're still on the clock, so…"

—

You never really believed in the saying less is more, especially when it came to style and costumes. The popular idol group Rose Gold is known for its breathtaking and extravagant imagery that drew audiences of all ages from inside and outside the city. Apart from the idols' superb skills, their costumes by the head costume designer Irino Izuna, are often praised for their fine craftsmanship and her specific attention to detail.

As a former idol herself, she found it a pleasure to dress those with star potential. Rose Gold was named after a precious metal, after all. For Izuna, more is better, and it became the group's principle.

This would be Izuna's final year as the group's head costume designer since she will be getting married soon, making your graduation outfit her penultimate masterpiece. The older woman had long been enamoured by you ever since you first auditioned to become a member many years ago and has since dressed you for every concert, every music video, and every guesting and show you starred in.

"This one I made especially for you. It would hurt me to see another wearing it, so the group resolved to hand it over to you, Otome-san, if you'll accept, of course."

"Is that heavy? Let me help you carry it."

Even in your simple civilian clothing, with the glamorous costume and accessories discarded, you still exuded the same kind of vibrance and elegance that made Yuuta rather nervous.

"Thank you very much, Yuuta-san," you replied, allowing his larger hand to take your suitcase filled with costumes from your fingers. He paused in his tracks when he came in contact with the luggage. "Is something wrong?"

"There's a curse in this luggage, Otome-san."

"O-Oh! How could I have not noticed?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. Yuuta pulled away from you as you reached for the suitcase once more. "Yuuta-san?"

"You must be exhausted," he remarked. "Can you not sense them?"

"I can, but faintly. Believe it or not, my family is pretty well-known in jujutsu society. I'm… not just some idol, I suppose," you nodded at him. "I believe my brother has made arrangements for you to stay with us for the duration of your mission."

He nodded at you this time, a smile still forming on his otherwise tired face. "I have a week to solve your predicament, but the investigation will be made quicker if you tell me everything you know, like people you suspect."

"Of course. Anything to help you, Yuuta-san," you eagerly nodded once more. The two of you were approached by an older man in a dark-coloured haori, his salt and pepper hair cut short and neat. Though his eyes were concealed under a pair of aviator sunglasses, there was no mistaking the sharpness of his sight. "This is Sakashita Yohan-san. Satoru nii-san mentioned him earlier. He is one of the Koganei Clan's finest sorcerers and has been my guardian since birth. He takes orders directly from my father and my brother, too, since he will be inheriting leadership soon."

The two sorcerers acknowledged each other with similar bows, the older one taking the cursed suitcase from the younger one.

"They are harmless at best, something you can easily sweep under the rug if you wish," stated Yohan. You gestured for Yuuta to follow the older man as he led you out of the arena. "Ojou-san, this way, please."

The car ride home was pleasant, but the two men couldn't help but keep their senses on high alert even after the exorcism of the seemingly harmless cursed spirit that chased you wherever you went.

"Yo-chan, you think we can stop by a convenience store? I want some Yakult…"

"I'll call the estate ahead and let them know that you want some, ojou-san."

The older man could have sworn he heard a small grumble of protest from where you sat in the vehicle.

The Koganei Clan made their home alongside the golden ginkgo trees that lined part of the Meiji-Jingu Gaien, part of the estate shrouded with a curtain due to the perennial nature of the golden tree within the gated property. With a keen eye, any sorcerer would be able to knock on the gates that were hidden from the normal human being.

Yuuta knew that the older sorcerer families had treasures to their names— even yours, whose origins were considered lowly compared to the Great Three Sorcerer Clans. You were welcomed home by a line of female servants in mustard-coloured yukata, the one closest to your age at the very front with a warm smile on her face.

"Welcome home, ojou-sama!"

You nearly forgot your manners as you happily embraced the other girl. "Marin-chan! Oh, how long has it been?"

"Eight months to this day, ojou-sama. We're all so happy to see you back home," Marin replied as she returned her liege's embrace.

Sakashita Marin was Yohan's niece whom he raised as his daughter. Given his close ties to the masters of the house, Marin was given her own task of being your attendant. You did not agree with her at first due to her straitlaced personality, but you soon became fast friends after bonding over the first generation of Rose Gold.

"Ah, yes. We have a guest, as I'm sure you're all aware of," you said with a smile as you gestured towards the rather tired-looking young man standing right next to you. "This is Okkotsu Yuuta-san. He is a pupil of Satoru nii-san and has been tasked with guarding me?"

"Uh, yes. I will serve as another bodyguard for Otome-san. I-I'll be in your care, then."

"It's an honour to have another esteemed sorcerer in our home," Marin bowed before him. "Please make yourself comfortable. We will handle your belongings."

"I'll prepare some tea for you, Yuuta-san," you told him. "If it's not much of a bother, could you perhaps tell me more about the magic school? It's always been my dream to study there, but my family blocked my application to the school because they say it's too dangerous for someone like me to even consider…"

"Oh, uh, I wouldn't want to impose…" Came his reply as he quickly followed you into your spacious home. "For starters, I was a pretty problematic kid. I have Gojo-sensei to thank for pulling the strings…"

For someone who held a three-hour-long farewell concert earlier today, you still had the boundless energy of someone who just woke up from a long rest. The servants in the kitchen were surprised by your arrival and even insisted on preparing the tea you promised your guest, urging you to rest for the night.

"I suppose we both have something to be thankful for that weird old man," you said with a laugh as you were both shooed away from the kitchen and led to one of the guest rooms prepared for the young sorcerer. "If you don't mind me asking, what rank are you?"

A single futon was laid out on the tatami, along with most of Yuuta's belongings for the week. His sheathed blade rested against the paper-thin walls while you took your seat on the floor, a tranquil image now unknowingly burned into his mind. He sat across from you and lowered his eyes briefly before fishing out his sorcerer licence from the left breast pocket of his grey jacket. You graciously accepted it with both hands and were visibly surprised by the fact presented to you.

"You're a Special Grade sorcerer! Incredible! I see I've made quite a talented friend."

He smiled rather sheepishly, a hand on his nape as he attempted to refute your point. "Not really… It's not all good, after all. Having this kind of power."

It was only when he lowered his gaze that you saw the exhaustion on his face, the dark circles under his eyes and a look that seemed to beg for even a moment's repose, only he was too polite to tell you to leave.

"You must be tired, Yuuta-san. Let's continue this conversation tomorrow," you said with a smile as you slowly rose from your seat. "Please make yourself comfortable. I—"

"O-Oh, are you leaving now, Otome-san?" His eyes followed your movement, lit up by some kind of expectation. "Sorry… To be honest, I'm… having a hard time resting with all of this space. I was hoping you could stay a little bit more to chat…"

You blinked at him, surprised at his sudden insistence. He raised his hands in defence.

"O-Only if you'd like! But I know you're probably tired yourself…"

"Not at all," you said as you shook your head and took your seat across from him once again. "You know, Yuuta-san, I understand if you feel like your skills may be a curse. Even I… I thought my technique to be my strength, but it made me weaker than the average sorcerer that I couldn't even study at the magic college."

Yuuta couldn't tear his tired eyes away from your leisurely-paced movement, the wave of your legs as you embraced them, the sparkle in your manicured nails, a polish of your choosing, and the tenderness of your voice as you spoke to him deep in the night, with his traditional-styled room illuminated by a single candle.

"At the end of the day, we are what we make out of our skills. I want to be one of this society's… Well, let's just say I want to help even if I cannot defend myself in battle," you told him with a small curl to your lips. "Yuuta-san, you have the strength to protect many people… Don't ever say it's not all good."

"Perhaps the only regret I have was…" He didn't have the strength to dispute your declaration any further, only enough to start a tale he can't bring himself to finish. "Believe it or not, I had a fiancée before. She was a childhood friend of mine…"

Yes, even with all of his strength and gifts, he was powerless against death itself.

— A madness and beauty unlike any other.

Sleep eluded you last night, and it was unfortunate that it was made so evident by the dark crescents under your eyes. On the contrary, your hired bodyguard had a refreshed look on his face as he stepped out of his room in his same grey jacket and his blade in tow.

"Oh, what are we going to do about this?" Marin queried as she fussed over you as you both stood in the hallway. Compared to your decked-out form from yesterday, you were dressed more casually today. "Sana-san will definitely be asking you why you look like that, ojou-sama."

You yawned into your palm, warm tears prickling your eyes as you fought the urge to drive your fists into them, even more so as you saw Yuuta approaching you with a smile. He looked like he had a good night's rest and he deserved it more than you since you weren't careful with your words.

"Good morning, Otome-san," he greeted you, to which Marin replied with a polite bow before you could even muster a response.

"Okkotsu-san," she started. "I understand ojou-sama must have kept you up and you gladly regaled her with stories about your work as a jujutsu-shi, but her work as a celebrity has not fully concluded yet. Please urge her to rest once today's activities have ended."

"M-Marin-chan! Th-There's no need to scold Yuuta-san—"

"O-Of course, Marin-san. My apologies. I thought there would be no harm in talking… But yes, we didn't expect it to go all night," Yuuta replied with a quick bow.

"Nothing inappropriate, I can only hope," Marin concluded before turning back to you. "Otou-san will be here with the car in a bit. Please send Sana-san my regards, ojou-sama. We are comrades in arms, after all!"

"It means they both look after me and my well-being," you said with a laugh as you finally approached the young man, who had a rather confused look on his face. "Good morning, Yuuta-san. I trust you had a good night's sleep."

Too good, he wanted to say. In fact, your conversation from the previous night about his past before becoming a sorcerer lifted a weight off his shoulders for some reason. He wanted to apologise for making you cry because of his story as well.

"Well, just like Marin said, work's not done just yet," you started, gently psyching yourself up. "Today we're going to my talent agency, Mieux Folie Productions, to say my farewells and get my final paycheck. I suppose that's a good place to start checking the, uh…"

"It's the best place to start, Otome-san," Yuuta nodded at you. "We want to be thorough, even though I can't really sense any more of that lingering maliciousness from your concert last night."

"We'll see about that," you can only say as you stepped out of the main house's genkan, where Yohan waited in the running car.

Cradled in the heart of Yokohama was the headquarters of Mieux Folie Productions, one of the city's top talent agencies known for producing the most popular personalities of this time, one of which is the Tall Idol Takada-chan. Since Rose Gold's inception nearly ten years ago and the debut of its second generation, Mieux Folie has maintained its stellar reputation as a star-making machine, eventually branching out to produce more talent on platforms like YouTube.

But Rose Gold remained the agency's pride and joy and ultimate money-making machine, so the departure of one of its prized idols was met with a lot of disappointment.

"Otome! You're here!" You were greeted by Sana, whom Yuuta recognised as your manager. The older woman had a cordial smile on her face, though her eyes were a little red and puffy. As she moved to embrace you, you returned her hold and beckoned your bodyguard to approach.

"Oh, could this be the rumoured husband-to-be?" Sana asked in a hushed voice as she released you from her embrace.

"Oh, no, I…" You replied with a small laugh. "Sa-chan, this is Okkotsu Yuuta-san. My family hired him as an additional, uh, bodyguard of sorts. He's from the, uh… And he's tasked with the, hmm… Yeah, that's pretty much it!"

"I see, I see!" Sana nodded at you, completely understanding your fragmented statements. "It's a pleasure, Okkotsu-san! I will leave my dear Otome in your capable hands, then."

"Y-Yes, of course, Kagomura-san."

Yuuta could tell from a single look that Sana had nothing but deep affection for you which you happily reciprocated, so she couldn't possibly be the root of that malicious cursed spirit from last night.

"Ah! Kagomura-san has Otome-chan!" Came a voice from one of your agency's many conference rooms.

"They've been waiting for you, Otome," Sana nodded at you with a smile. "You should say your goodbyes since—"

The door finally burst open, followed by two girls running in your direction. "Otome-chan!"

"O-Oh! Maho-chan! Nina-chan!" You exclaimed as the pair trapped you in their embrace.

"Nooo! We can't believe it's finally happening! You're really retiring now!" The blonde girl with pigtails sobbed as she buried her face in your chest.

"We're going to miss you so much!" The black-haired girl cried, trying to squeeze herself in your chest as well.

"I, uh…" You said with a defeated smile as you returned their embrace. "I'll miss you guys a lot, too."

"Maho, Nina, that's enough from you two," said another girl in a chic bob haircut. "We've prepared for this for a long time now, so don't make Otome sad with all the waterworks."

"Th-That's right! We p-promised Otome-chan not to cry, s-so…" A girl in braids stammered as she shyly hid behind the one whom Yuuta could only assume was the older sister of the group.

As the five of them regained their composure, they got into their respective positions and flashed their audience with one of their killer poses and catchphrases. "Rose Gold shines too! Kira Kira!"

Mieux Folie's staff clapped in wonder and amusement, pausing from their daily tasks to feast their eyes on their company's highest-acclaimed idol group. You stepped forward with the warmest smile on your face and gave everyone on the floor a deep bow of gratitude eternal.

"Thank you very much for all your support and for taking good care of me for the last five years, everyone! I am truly grateful to have been managed by such kind and steadfast people."

Yuuta could only blend into the background and observe. At some point in their lives, your brilliance has touched the people in this company, evident by how fondly they looked at you as you said your farewells to them. Some of them were even crying to themselves as you continued your appreciation spiel.

"…most importantly, I'd like to thank my manager, Kagomura Sana-san. She has done a wonderful job of keeping me on track and step with my fellow idols…"

And then it hits him like whiplash— the distinct malicious energy so similar to the one from last night. He tried to move unnoticed so he could investigate further, but he couldn't stop his eyes from being drawn to the middle of the room where you stood.

"…fellow idols, my co-stars, girls whom I consider as good as sisters, Goda Karin onee-san, Kondou Shinju-chan, Tateyama Maho-chan, and Onodera Nina-chan… I hope you continue to support Rose Gold as they are now. My absence from the group doesn't make them any less spectacular, of course. They will continue doing their best…"

His trail ends in an inconspicuous corner of the room where a slightly older bespectacled woman stood, and though she had a warm smile on her face, she radiated the same dim energy that only seemed to rebound in the area. His approach was halted by the sound of applause and cheering from the centre of the floor, where the agency's idols were gathered, along with another figure he easily recognised as the Tall Idol Takada-chan, his colleague Toudou Aoi's one true love.

"Oh! Look at this! It's Rose Gold, in the flesh!" Takada happily spoke into the screen of her mobile phone, where she seemed to be live on her YouTube account. "Rose Gold shines too!"

To which you and the four other girls replied with the same cordial smiles on your faces. "Kira Kira!"

"Now, word on the street is that my good friend Otome-chan has retired from her idol duties! I'm sure many of your fans are wondering…"

"I have family duties to attend to," you replied to her question with warmth and cheer despite being put on the spot. "I cannot thank my family enough for allowing me to pursue my dreams and meeting everyone in the process, but now it's time for me to return home. I hope everyone continues to support Rose Gold and Takada-chan, too!"

"I'm going to miss our silly little chats, Otome-chan, but we idols will know how and where to find you just in case!" Takada happily declared. "Oh, manager-san! Would you be so kind as to hold my live for us?!"

Sana stepped up as Takada motioned for someone to hold her mobile phone for them. Dutiful as ever, she made sure that all members of Rose Gold and the Tall Idol were perfectly framed onscreen.

"Since it's your final day here, you wouldn't mind doing one last dance with me, would you, Otome-chan?"

Karin, Shinju, Maho, and Nina nodded at you in unison, while you threw a sure thumbs-up at Takada. "Let's go! Rose Gold!"

One of Rose Gold's oldest upbeat songs filled the air, and even though the agency's staff had seen your group perform countless times now, each one of them was simply bewitched as you took to the impromptu stage, your blocking and choreography as seamless as always.

"I wanna be a viral star on a shiny stage somewhere! It may be sad— But I still a dream in the darkness of my mind!"

And Yuuta was just as bewitched as he followed your every hop and sway, completely drawn to your electric energy.

"A larger stage suits her better, wouldn't you agree?"

His daydream was cut short when the bespectacled woman posed a question that was clearly directed at him.

"We don't need a special future! I don't care if it's just fake— Whatever happens, I just want to grab that light!"

"There's no need to be so suspicious of me, jujutsu-shi. You caught me, and I admit my mistake," Izuna stated. "It's true that I was responsible for that… thing, but I didn't expect it to grow out of proportion…"

"Who are you?" Yuuta questioned, the gleam in his eyes replaced by a bloodlust not many people can sense. Upon hearing how she addressed him, he concluded that she must be a part of jujutsu society herself.

"Who I am isn't important. I want to know what's going to happen to Otome-san from here on out," she answered him. "I suppose you could call me a fan…"

"Walkin' the streets between the junk, but it's a path I chose myself…"

"When she first walked in here five years ago as an idol trainee, I recognised from the very start that she was from a sorcerer family. I suppose it takes one to know one. She was incredibly empathic, after all… But how she managed to convince her family that she wanted to be an idol, I'll probably never know…" She said with a rueful smile on her face. "Her mere presence here was a sign of upheaval for women of our kind. It meant that she was subverting everyone's expectations of her. Because where else should she be if she wasn't going to be a sorcerer from the start?"

Yuuta could only listen, the excitement of the moment drowned out by the older woman's statement.

"Girls from sorcerer families are only as valuable as the cursed techniques and the blood that runs in their veins. And I thought that she managed to escape that very fate. That's not the case, unfortunately, since I know she'll be married off to a son of one of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans," Izuna continued, her eyes not at all swayed by the other girls dancing alongside you. "I must have unknowingly cursed her… for not even going against her family's wishes for her. For giving up so quickly on her dreams. But who am I to assume such things when she could be doing all of this on her own accord? Who am I to curse her when I'm just a coward myself…"

He didn't know about that detail. Perhaps his superior found it irrelevant to his investigation that he didn't even bother mentioning it at all. Still, for his sensei to miss out on such a vital piece of information…

Yuuta raised his dark gaze to rest on your dazzling figure. "She has a warmth that soothes a mind so close to jumping off the edge…"

"Right?! I knew I wasn't the only one who felt that way," the older woman replied before eventually bowing down deep before him. "Please… know that I meant her no harm. Like everyone else in this building, I adore Otome-san and the rest of Rose Gold. I didn't mean for it to grow like that. I didn't mean for it to terrify her."

That's a case closed, he thought to himself. Izuna no longer radiated that stark sinister energy but instead now cried tears of regret, her sobs drowned out by the resounding cheers and applause from the floor as the idols flashed their audience with Takada's signature Taka-tan Beam.

"There in the window in the reflection, I see my uneasy smile— Wait for the day when sunshine puts the spot on me!"

"Otome-chan, your new bodyguard's pretty good-looking!"

You looked up from your strawberry and mango crepe as Maho and Nina made doe eyes at Yuuta, who was seated further away from the group with a cup of black coffee in hand as you shared desserts with the other girls in a cute little cafe neatly tucked away in a corner of the city.

"What happened to Yo-chan?" Karin asked rather curiously as she stirred the ornate plastic straw around her iced caramel macchiato. For some reason, Yohan was incredibly popular with your friends despite his age.

"Yo-chan is still around! He's been busy is all, with Kazu nii-san ordering him around and stuff…" You replied to the older girl's question. "A-As for Yuuta-san, he's only going to be my bodyguard for a short while…"

"Ooh, is that right?! I suppose you won't mind us helping ourselves to him once he's done with his work, then!" Maho said teasingly, the slightly younger girl amused by your rather panicked reaction.

"M-Maho-chan! Y-Yuuta-san is—"

You had to admit that Yuuta was pretty handsome, even when you first saw him so exhausted— standing next to that old man Satoru, too. There was something charming about his reserved nature; refreshing, even, compared to the other men around you who always wanted to have their best foot forward and impress you with just that.

"Oh, right! While we're still here, I wanted to talk to you about something, Otome-chan," Nina fished out her mobile phone from her purse. "Noah onii-chan called me earlier this week and said that he wants you to model for one last photobook."

"Really?!" You remarked excitedly. "I'd love to, of course! Noah-san takes the most gorgeous photos of us…"

"Onii-chan said that it's just you, though, Otome-chan. He even has a theme and a date ready and all…" Nina stated as she browsed through her texts with her older brother.

Onodera Noah and Nina are the children of a famous actor from the 80s to 90s who married a foreign socialite and made a home in Japan. The siblings were no strangers to the entertainment industry, though the paths they chose couldn't be any different. Nina enjoyed her stardom as one of your generation's favourite idols, while her older brother Noah preferred working as a magic maker behind the camera.

The blonde handed her phone to you to read the details of her brother's planned photoshoot— a punk and grunge theme that stepped away from Rose Gold's usual cute style.

[ O. Noah お兄ちゃん 📷: It's a perfect theme for Otome-chan since she's moving away from Rose Gold's immaculately cute and pristine image. It's something that screams— ]

"…Cool…" Was all you could say after seeing Noah's mood board, which was composed of several images of Osaki Nana, the highly acclaimed vocalist of BLAST, a popular rock band from the early 2000s. Her dusky eye makeup, crimson lips, edgy accessories and husky voice were iconic, almost legendary, and to think that a talented photographer wanted to frame you as such… "O-Of course I'll do it! Noah-san has such great taste!"

"Thanks, Otome-chan! I'm sure onii-chan will be pleased. I'll send you the details on LINE," Nina said with a smile as she proceeded to message her brother. "I'll ask him if I come along too, just to assist you guys and all."

"Tell him I can do it tomorrow," you said, surprising the other girls at the table. "I… have to be in Kyoto first thing next week and I don't know when I'll be back, so…"

Ping! Came the sound of the notification from Nina's phone. "Onii-chan says… Oh, would you look at that? He asked if you were available tomorrow. Sounds like he's super excited for this."

"I'm looking forward to it, too," you concluded before happily digging into your creamy fruit crepe once more.

"Aww! I want to go, too!" Maho exclaimed. "With Rose Gold on break at the moment, my manager loaded me up with so many solo photoshoots and product endorsement shoots that I hardly have any time to slack off…"

"Y-You're lucky, Maho-chan… My manager's having s-such a hard time booking me for anything…" Shinju quietly replied as she lifted her matcha latte to her lips.

"We'll find you something worthwhile to do, Shinju," Karin stated with a sure smile on her lips. "Best of luck on your final photobook, Otome. Don't forget to send us a copy when it comes out."

"Of course! Thank you, Karin onee-san!"

From across the small cafe, Yuuta could hardly focus on anything other than following your every move. This place is what he would call your natural habitat. The staff there knew your group and, surprisingly, respected your privacy. Rose Gold weren't idols at that moment, but just regular cute girls doing regular cute girl things. You were laughing about something this time, your eyes lighting up in mirth as the blonde girl, Nina, poked your side. Maho, the brunette, stole a bite from your crepe, while the older sister figure Karin was busy fixing one of Shinju's braids.

He lowered his eyes to his half-empty cup of coffee, feeling somewhat embarrassed at intruding on such a sacred time reserved for you and your friends whom you'll have to part with soon. The feeling was short-lived, however, when he caught Maho and Nina smiling and waving at him while you attempted to pull them back down to their seats. Their giggling filled the cafe even further when he decided to smile and wave back at them.

Huh. It was his turn to be embarrassed. Maybe he was getting a little too ahead of himself.

A few moments passed before you finally decided to take your leave, giving each of your friends a long and warm hug. The cafe staff politely asked for your autograph and if you could kindly pose for photos, too, which you happily obliged to.

Yuuta downed the rest of his coffee as he watched the small crowd around you, all smiles as you flashed Rose Gold's signature pose for the photo. They all gratefully bowed deep before you and you gladly reflected their movement, equally grateful for this little corner of peace and quiet in your ever-changing world as an idol.

By the time the crowd died out and the rest of the girls left the cafe, you finally approached your bodyguard's table with an apologetic expression. "Yuuta-san, I'm so sorry you had to wait…"

"It's not a problem, Otome-san. It's my job to keep you safe," said Yuuta as he rose from his seat. "But don't your friends think it's strange that you have a bodyguard?"

"Oh, no, they don't think it's weird at all since they believe my backstory," you said with a small dismissive wave of your hand. "That I'm from a rich family. That's partly true when you think about it. They don't know about… the other thing, though."

The other thing being your sorcerer origins.

"Of course. I suppose not everyone can understand that side of you and that side of things. I'll do my best to make sure you can continue on with your life as normal," he replied with a nod of understanding before eventually standing up. "Shall we go, then?"

"Y-Yuuta-san, I… Well…"

Oh, shoot. You stammered at him without even thinking about what you were about to ask. His full attention was on you. "Yes?"

This is all Maho's fault, you couldn't help but think to yourself. It was completely normal for idols to sign autographs for their fans if they could, but Yuuta didn't seem like the kind of guy who liked Takada-chan.

"M-my friends and I were… Well, uh, they were asking why you asked… Takada-chan for an autograph," you said quietly before pursing your lips.

"Oh, that was for my colleague Toudou. He's a massive Takada-chan fan. Here, let me show you his Instagram," he replied with a smile on his face before pulling out his mobile phone from his pocket and scrolling through his apps. "Here we are. Toudou's always present at her fan meets, but due to the time constraints, he's never gotten her autograph before."

You're presented with the Instagram profile of Toudou, @aoisboogiewoogie— and most of his grid showed him and his fanboying over your agency's madly popular Tall Idol Takada-chan. He has photos of him beside her standees, photos of him outside her fan meet venues, photos of him with products labelled with her face, photos of him Takada-chan merchandise— you name it, he must have a photo of it.

"Oh, wow. I've never seen such a dedicated fan before," you said as you slowly scrolled through more of Toudou's uploads.

"I'm sure you must have a lot of fans, Otome-san."

"I suppose…"

When you clicked on Yuuta's Instagram profile, @okkopi, it was just as you expected, perhaps even more neat and curated than you thought. There were very few posts, some with his friends and colleagues, you can only assume, some photos of his meals, and upon scrolling even deeper, you found a photo of a girl.

Pretty. She had long dark hair and a distinct mole on the corner of her smiling lips while holding up what seemed to be a half-eaten strawberry doughnut with sprinkles.

This must be his fiancée, Rika.

"O-Oh, I'm so sorry for going through your photos, I…" Realising your actions, you could only hand him back his mobile phone without even looking him in the eye. You turned away from him, cheeks hot with embarrassment and something you couldn't quite put your finger on. "I'll call Yo-chan so he can pick us up now."

To which Yuuta could only conclude with… "Ah… Did she see that I was already following her on Insta? Was it weird?"

It was only later that night when you were doomscrolling through your Instagram in the confines of your bedroom that you realised Yuuta was already following your account. "Oh, man, what have I been posting about lately? Nothing silly, I hope."

You couldn't follow back his account without anyone noticing and you didn't want him to be on the receiving end of any questioning messages, especially as to why the recently-retired centre of Rose Gold was following a private citizen.

You switched from your main account, @yn_rosegoldmfp, to another one. "He'll recognise this profile, I think?"

As he was drying his hair after his bath, Yuuta's mobile phone lit up with a single notification—

[ Instagram: @daysofyn_ requested to follow you. ]

—

Your photoshoot the next day wasn't until the afternoon when the sun's calmed down a little, so you were afforded a slow-paced morning you spent lazing around in the kitchen while Marin was preparing your breakfast.

"You should wait in the dining hall, ojou-sama. Okkotsu-san must be there already and you normally have breakfast with him before everything else," Marin told you with a hand on her waist. She moved to adjust the crooked collar of your pale blue yukata.

"Mmmnnggh…"

"Ojou-sama!"

Marin couldn't believe the unpleasant groan that left your mouth as you sat at the servants' table with your head in your hands. You fought the urge to yawn since you knew she would scold you for staying up too late. Her warm hand brushed over the hair on your forehead and you heard her breathe a sigh of relief since you weren't unwell.

A small knock on the kitchen's wide wooden door frame alerted your attendant, but you couldn't be bothered to lift your head from your oddly depressive state.

"Good morning, Marin-san. Have you seen Otome-san this morning? She wasn't in her room when I passed by…"

It was Yuuta with the same refreshed and rested look on his face. He walked into the kitchen in a plain white shirt that seemed to hug his incredibly sturdy form. He didn't have his familiar grey jacket on yet, his blade nowhere in sight, too. Around his neck hung a silver chain that glinted in the morning light, the pendant concealed underneath his shirt.

Marin furrowed her eyebrows at him before opening her mouth to speak but then decided against it when your eyes met, prompting the outsider to turn around and face the figure seated at the servants' table.

"Ah, good morning," he greeted you with a polite bow, but you could see his expression slowly change into a look of complete surprise as you rose your head to greet him back.

"Good morning, Yuuta-san."

"O-Otome-san?!"

Oh, you got that a lot. Your work as an idol required you to put on a sweet kind of makeup for all of your gigs meant to accentuate your features and make them a bit sharper. Meanwhile, your bare face made you look younger than usual. Plainer, too, probably.

"My apologies… I, uh…" Yuuta said with a nervous smile on his face, a hand on his nape as though embarrassed by his reaction. "I almost didn't recognise you…"

"Don't worry, I—"

You were surprised when he got down on his knee so your eyes would meet, your face heated up once again as he held your gaze with his eyes that were a deep shade of ocean blue. "You must hear this all the time, but I think you're really pretty."

"Ahem!"

Marin's feigned cough prompted both of you to straighten up.

"Good morning, Okkotsu-san! Ojou-sama will be with you shortly," she stated with a warm smile on her face. "Please wait for her in the dining hall."

"Of… Of course."

The young sorcerer left as quietly as he arrived, though he was unable to remove his gaze from your already evident embarrassment. He stepped out of the kitchen with a small smile on his face which he covered with one of his hands.

"Ojou-sama, that's no good. You know by now what your responsibility entails."

"I know," you shot right back at your attendant, trying not to let your disappointment in yourself show any more later on. "I am set to be married off to the Kamo Clan's heir. Otou-sama went through a painstaking ordeal to see that this marriage would push through because we minor sorcerer clans are always at the mercy of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans."

There was a reason why it was always older jujutsu sorcerers who handled missions related to you. They would go about their day without so much as having to talk to you because they had absolutely nothing in common with you. Older jujutsu-shi would accomplish their missions neatly, like walking in and out of a room without having to touch anything inside it.

Marin, whom you grew up beside, knew every ebb and glow of your face like the back of her hand. She was sure of one thing right now— You were smitten with this young jujutsu-shi assigned to be your bodyguard in the meantime.

"Besides, it's not like Yuuta-san would truly look my way," you said with a crooked smile and another dismissive wave of your hand. "I… I'm sure he was just being nice."

And that his heart still belonged to a girl already far beyond his reach.

—

When the afternoon rolled in, you and Yuuta were dropped off by Yohan at the Shibuya photo studio Nina sent you through LINE. It was a chic place that made sense given Noah's known straightforward personality. From the way the studio staff warmly greeted you, it was clear that the Onodera siblings Noah and Nina were no strangers to the place.

"Ah! They're here!" Nina happily exclaimed as you were led to the main studio. Her older brother, who was busy setting up his gear, was equally elated to see you. Noah followed his sister's trail and enveloped the hugging girls in his arms.

"Otome-chan! Welcome! I'm so glad you agreed to this!"

"Oh, the honour is all mine, being the subject of the highly-skilled and highly acclaimed celebrity photographer Onodera Noah," you chuckled at him as he smothered you and his sister into an even bigger embrace.

"Ah, and who is this?" Noah asked, his curiosity piqued as Yuuta dutifully stood a few paces behind you. "Don't tell me you got a boyfriend so soon after you retired from idol work."

"Of course not, Noah-san! This is Okkotsu Yuuta-san. He's my temporary bodyguard…"

Yuuta could only stand and watch as you introduced him once more as your bodyguard in the meantime. He could be called back to headquarters anytime now that the mystery of the cursed spirits hounding you has been solved.

One of the studio's staff offered him a chair seeing as he won't be part of the shoot, but he insisted on remaining on his feet so he could act much quicker if needed.

And now that he's thinking about it, bodyguard work is much tamer compared to most of the missions he is always being assigned to. This was something even a Second Grade sorcerer could handle, but his superior specifically chose him for this job. Why that is, he will probably never know. It was impossible to get a read on how his teacher's mind worked.

As he had always done for the last couple of days, Yuuta followed your every movement as attentive as he could, watching from the corner as Nina carefully applied a shimmery dusky purple shadow over your closed eyes, lined your waterline with a heated eyeliner pencil, and swiped a striking shade of crimson over your lips.

"Oh! Good job, Nini! Her makeup is spot on!" Noah ruffled his younger sister's hair as he praised her.

"Naturally! I studied Osaki Nana-san's makeup last night and…"

The makeup was darker than your usual look and made even heavier by the way you lowered your eyelashes, giving you a more mysterious and gloomy yet haughty appearance.

For Yuuta, however, there was no masking your radiance, even more so when you broke character and laughed at Nina's glitter-tinged fingertips.

"Noah onii-chan really pulled out all the stops for this photoshoot, Otome-chan. He even reached out to some of Papa's costume designer friends and colleagues to ask for their advice… Though we all know that BLAST's Osaki Nana is such an icon," the blonde girl said as she ran a comb through your hair, parting it in the middle. "I think one of the older costume designers even lent him a few pieces of clothing for today."

True enough, Noah wheeled out a rack filled with various plaid and leather articles, along with imitation black leather boots your size. "I wish we could have brought in some real Vivienne Westwood stuff, though. Our old man's friend was pretty stingy, but we're thankful, still!"

Nina accompanied you behind the special partition assembled so you could change your clothes and get into character. Meanwhile, Noah did some empty test shots while ensuring the lights were all placed correctly. "All right, looks like everything's set."

Yuuta deduced that Noah could be around his age, or maybe a bit older. He was surprised when the blonde boy approached him with his DSLR camera around his neck.

"So have you been doing this bodyguard gig for how long?"

"Oh, uh… I've been doing it for quite some time now."

Not really, he thought to himself as he tried to throw off the photographer from his case.

"I gotta say, you're younger than Otome-chan's usual bodyguards. I know her family's the richy rich kind, but it's so strange seeing one so close to her age," Noah chuckled. "Ah, but I didn't mean to underestimate you! I just thought it was kinda refreshing to see a younger guy accompanying her."

"No offence taken," Yuuta replied with a kind smile. He knew that those weren't bodyguards, though, but sorcerers handling her cases.

The two young men exchanged a few more words before turning their attention to you, who stepped back out of the studio barefoot. You were like a different person in the leather jacket, plaid red skirt, dark stockings and spiked accessories, along with your styled hair and edgy makeup…

"Noah-san! Th-the laces of the boots are—!"

But as Yuuta said, there was no masking your radiance and your sweetness.

"Oh, they're still undone from top to bottom, huh? What a drag. Let me…" Noah moved to assist you, only for him to pause in his tracks when Yuuta stepped up.

"I can help you, Otome-san. Please have a seat first."

The blonde siblings exchanged knowing looks as they watched your bodyguard place a hand on the small of your back and gesture to the seat that was presented to him earlier.

"Let's put them on and lace them at once," Yuuta stated as he knelt down before you, gently taking the boots in your hands and slipping your stockinged feet in them. From your vantage point, you could see how dark his eyes and lashes were as he tenderly worked the laces through their hooks. "Not too tight, I hope."

"Just right," you replied to him with a small smile. The boots fit you well, even more so with the laces now tied. "Thanks, Yuuta-san."

Nina approached her older brother with a glint of mischief in her blue eyes. "Onii, you don't suppose…"

"…Yeah, I see it. I see a vision!" Noah nodded. "What's your bodyguard's name again, Otome-chan?"

You slowly rose from your seat while Yuuta got up from the floor. "O-Oh, his name is Okkotsu Yuuta-san."

"Okkotsu-san, yeah? Listen, can you do us a favour?"

"Sure. Anything I can help you with?"

Noah lifted one of the larger leather jackets in Yuuta's direction. "Put this on."

Yuuta blinked at him in surprise. "M-Me?"

"Yes, you. Has anyone ever told you that you have such a fine frame?"

"Noah-san means to say your build is… is good," you told him rather nervously. After seeing him in his form-hugging shirt this morning, you concluded that he wasn't just built well. He was built just like his teacher— the finest of their kind.

"Nini, his hair."

"Got it," Nina nodded at her brother before turning to the dark-haired boy with a sweet smile. "If I may, Okkotsu-san? We'll just change your style a bit, nothing too drastic, I promise."

"O-Okay."

"Let's take some test shots, Otome-chan. And don't worry, Nini won't do anything strange to him, not while I'm around," Noah said with a laugh as he pointed at the spot where you should stand, all the lights shining in your direction now. "The stage is yours."

You took a deep breath before getting into character once more, shrugging off a sleeve from your shoulder to expose a bit of your skin.

"Good, good! Here, I brought these as props. We don't have to light them," the young photographer fished out a box of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed it in your direction. You caught it deftly, only for it to be taken from your hands by Yuuta, who was now sporting a similar leather jacket and a rather large but stylish chain around his neck. His hair was styled with a bit of wax and his gaze was smouldering.

"Y—"

"I-I'm sorry. I'm a little nervous," he finally spoke, breaking out of his supposed character. "Nina-san said that Honjo Ren was cool and collected, but I'm not…"

"Y-You were doing well, actually!" You reassured him. "He doesn't smile that much, so…"

"Osaki Nana's story is one of beauty and tragedy, but that's not what I want to capture here," Noah stated as he slowly raised his camera viewfinder to his eye. "In this story, she reunites with her one true love, Honjo Ren, so that is what I want you to do: hold each other as though you're about to lose each other."

A look of perplexion and despondency washed over Yuuta's features— And you realised why.

Wasn't he able to hold her in her final moments?

"Yuuta-san, look at me."

He does so upon your urging, his darkened gaze meeting your sparkling eyes. You placed your hand on his nape, your fingers tenderly grazing the ends of his jet-black hair, pulling him down much closer to you so your faces were but a breath apart. You took his hand and strategically placed it on your back, feeling the warmth of his hold even through your fashionable clothes.

"Yes, that's what I'm talking about," the photographer stated with a rumble of excitement in his voice as he finally started taking photos. The flashing lights didn't faze you one bit, but you could tell that Yuuta was tense.

"It's okay. I'll be the one to hold you," you whispered to him. "Let me take care of you while we're here."

"You can relax, Okkotsu-san! If you're worried about your face showing, don't. Otome-chan is still the focal point here, so your face won't really be seen. Maybe some bits, but not the whole thing."

"What a relief," he sighed to himself. "I can't imagine the trouble I'll be in if Gojo-sensei finds out about this."

"I'll beat him up for you if he scolds you," you said with a laugh, to which he could only reply with the same low chuckle.

"Stop smiling, you two!"

"S-Sorry!"

Fortunately, Yuuta only had to stand in for a few photographs. You spent the rest of the photoshoot shuffling in and out of the different outfits the siblings planned and styled for you. As Noah signalled Nina to bring in another of his props, this time a microphone stand, you couldn't help but hum to yourself while trying to stay in character.

"Oh, that song! That's one of BLAST's hits, right? Don't be shy now, just sing!"

"Wh-What?! Don't make me sing!"

"You do know that your face is more honest than your words, don't you, Otome-san?"

You shook your head and tried to stay in character, but as instructed by her brother once more, Nina played the song for you to sing along to.

"I could have seen the other side, taking a step into the sky… Ah, I'm always late! I could've done the same routine, showing the old and golden scene— Ah, I'm lying again to make them go!"

It was cheesy having to do it, but the song evoked so many emotions in you that you couldn't help but try to picture yourself in the vocalist's shoes. In her position. Didn't she go through the same painstaking road of starting as nobodies before skyrocketing to fame?

"Wearing again my rocking shoes over the puddles made of tears— Flashback, I know you're clever! I remember…"

Oh, you kind of wanted to cry right now. Your idol journey has come to an end, you still couldn't believe it. It wasn't like your path to becoming an idol was easy, yet you knew deep inside that you were born for something else entirely.

That must have been the reason why Izuna-san didn't bother saying goodbye to you at all. Because you were a coward. A slave to your destiny just like she was. Being cursed was the least of your concerns.

"I know we could cross over rainbows! I wish that we could aim for the sun again. I know we could dream for tomorrow… To share the long-forgotten glamorous days!"

Yohan nearly had to carry you out of the studio with how tuckered out you were. You could tell from his sharp yet gentle gaze that he was admiring this new look on you, nodding at you in approval.

"Yo-chan!" Nina excitedly hovered around the older man as he arrived at the studio in his usual pressed haori and hakama. "You're still so dapper as always!"

"Good evening, Nina-san," he gave her a short bow before patting her head. "And you are just as lovely."

"Ooh, I cannot wait to tell this to the girls! Karin-nee is going to smack me!"

You groaned in exhaustion as you approached your guardian, your makeup still immaculately in place as you handed him your things. "Ah, I'm beat! I'm so glad you're here, Yo-chan. Noah-san's asking for more photos, but I'm spent!"

Yuuta followed closely behind you with more of your belongings in his hands. The older man furrowed his brows and gave him a quizzical look.

"Yuuta-kun."

"Y-Yes, Yohan-san?"

"…I like what they did to your hair."

"Oh! Nina-san fixed it for me earlier…"

You bid your farewells to the good-looking siblings, who were still settling their accounts with the photo studio. Nina gave you one last good look before engulfing you in another tight embrace. "Make sure to still call me and message me whenever you can, Otome-chan."

"Of course, Nina-chan."

"Otome-chan, I can't thank you enough for making this dream photoshoot a reality," Noah proceeded to embrace the two girls once more. "The photobook will be ready in a month or so. I'll be sure to send you your copy ASAP."

"Thank you as well for all your trust in me, Noah-san. You two should come visit me in Kyoto every once in a while."

"Just say the word, then. We'll be there."

—

As the car passed by the more familiar corridors of Shibuya, your after-work craving reared its head once more. It was unreasonable of you to ask if you could stop by a convenience store given anyone could recognise you then and there…

"Yo-chan, you think we can stop by a convenience store? I want some Yakult…"

You were ready to be dismissed from your request like he always does, but your heart was thrilled to bits when he decided to park his car in a corner next to a Lawson Store.

"I'll wait here, then. Yuuta-san will accompany you. Do you have money?"

Oh, crap.

"I—"

I didn't think I'd get this far!

Your pause made Yuuta gently tap your hand. "I have some money here. Let's go grab your Yakult, Otome-san."

The two of you shuffled out of the car and into the streets, your face unable to contain your excitement as you entered the convenience store with your bodyguard close behind you, the chilly air making you sneeze all of a sudden.

"Ot— Ah…" He knew it would be unwise to call you by your name in a public place, so he stepped into your space to gently grab hold of your hand instead. "Don't go where I can't see you, sweetheart."

"?!"

Your eyes widened in surprise at his chosen remark, which was the quickest thing he could think of at that moment without saying your name out loud so you wouldn't get separated.

"Excuse me, onee-san? Is this man bothering you?" A young girl in a high school uniform approached you, looking at your bodyguard rather apprehensively. "I-It's just that you looked a bit…"

"O-Oh! Oh, no, I-I'm all right!" You stammered at her before raising your other hand in defence. You instinctively clung onto his arm this time. "M-My boyfriend was just making sure he can see where I'm going. Thank you for your concern!"

Yuuta was struggling to stifle his own laughter and embarrassment at the situation you got yourselves in. He was thankful that a stranger was concerned for others, but you two really should have come up with a plan for such instances. He gave the stranger a small nod of affirmation before leading the way to the refrigerators, leaning down against you to whisper an apology. "I'm so sorry, Otome-san."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," you whispered back at him, only to burst into laughter not long after. He gently elbowed you as he hid his face in his hand, trying to quell the amusement bubbling in his throat.

How could you laugh so warmly, sweetly and carelessly in the midst of almost being recognised by someone? It was crazy of you.

"Mmm, maybe I should grab some canned coffee, too? Oh, wait, I'm broke!"

But he savoured the sound of your tender laughter, the softness of your voice that did not suit your moody makeup, and the light in your eyes that seemed to say, things are going to be okay.

— Chasing a dream.

Yuuta's week-long assignment as your bodyguard finally came to an end. While you contemplated asking your brother to pull some strings for you so he could remain in your service for a while longer, you figured you couldn't hold him at home when there were more important missions for him to accomplish.

The estate clamoured in activity as they prepared a little send off for the Special Grade sorcerer who solved their lady's predicament. The male servants in particular were grateful for his service. You only found out now that Yuuta not only trained with them every early morning, but even helped out with some of the heavy lifting they had to do throughout the estate.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality. I felt more like a guest than a bodyguard, if I'm being honest…"

You were prepared to bid him farewell as well as he thanked your family for their kindness during his stay. As you both waited for the vehicle from Jujutsu Headquarters to arrive, you decided to muster up the courage to ask for his contact details even though you were set to be married soon.

No, that's no good. You need to gracefully let go of this fleeting infatuation before it gets out of hand. It would be unfair to both him and your future husband if you—

A familiar black car rolled into your driveway, followed by the entrance of a familiar silver-haired sorcerer into your home. "Yo, Yuuta-kun! Ojou-chan!"

"Satoru nii-san!"

The Koganei servants were quick to assemble at the genkan when they heard of Gojo Satoru's arrival, and even the masters of the house made their presence known by greeting him at the doorstep, most especially your older brother Kazuya, who looked both annoyed and pleased by his visit.

"Satoru."

"Kazuya! Long time no see!"

It was a jest, of course, for the two older men only met a few days back to discuss the curse that previously hung over your head. Satoru's nonchalance irked your older brother, the crooked smile on his face slowly straightening out as the silver-haired man walked over to him for a quick handshake.

"Now that you're here, Kazuya, I'd like to let you know that your request for an escort to Kyoto has been approved," Satoru stated with a smile before eventually turning to his pupil. "That also happens to be your next mission, Yuuta-kun."

You blinked at Kazuya, not at all believing what you were hearing at the moment. "Kazu nii-san, you mean to say—?"

Your brother nodded at you. "Yes, I petitioned for Okkotsu-san to escort you and Marin-chan to the Kamo estate in Kyoto."

"B-But I have Yo-chan with me, too!"

"Sensei, if I may…" Yuuta started. "I'm not disagreeing with this, but if Otome-san is as important as her family says, why is it just Yohan-san and I escorting her to Kyoto?"

The older men exchanged looks, with Satoru nodding at Kazuya to explain the decision.

"Because my sister will have one of this generation's finest Special Grade sorcerers with her, plus a First Grade sorcerer worth at least 20 men in terms of martial prowess and cursed energy output. I'd accompany her to Kyoto myself if I could, but I have duties I can't leave, and I think any more than you and Yo-san would already be overkill."

Yuuta couldn't believe his ears when he heard of Yohan's capabilities. He never thought that the unassuming old man was that terrifying. If your brother was right, Yohan's cursed energy output would put him on par with the elite himself, Nanami. Or Toudou, too.

You sighed to yourself. "Well, it's not like there's gonna be a fuss or anything… It doesn't really matter who takes me to Kyoto as long as I get there."

Kazuya furrowed his eyebrows at your statement. He opened his mouth to say something but eventually decided against it. You noticed how Satoru lightly nudged your older brother with his elbow, to which the latter replied with a small shake of his head.

"Shall I have the servants prepare tea and sweets for you, big brothers?" You smiled at the older men. "Surely you must have other things to discuss…"

"Not really. In fact, Satoru was just about to get going," your older brother smiled back at you, a hand now clamped onto the outsider's shoulder to lead him out and away from the crowd.

"I-I was?" The silver-haired sorcerer could only stammer in response to Kazuya's urging, a confused expression undoubtedly impressed upon his blindfolded eyes. "O-Oi! Kazu—"

You blinked in confusion as your older brother and older brother figure both stepped out of the house, a soundless struggle ensuing between them as you watched them pass nudges and pinches at each other. Sometimes you forget that they are just that close— very much so that your brother manages to bypass Satoru's Infinity. Or was it Satoru who lets his guard down?

"I see. Safe travels then, Satoru nii-san!"

The tall man was shoved back into the vehicle from which he came from and was unceremoniously sent off with a single wave by Kazuya. "Good riddance. I'm sorry you had to see that, Otome. Okkotsu-san."

"I-It's all right, Koganei-san. If I remember right, you're the second person I've seen capable of manhandling Gojo-sensei like that," Yuuta chuckled.

"Suguru, I assume. Then again, he has the patience of a saint…" Kazuya uncharacteristically rolled his eyes before composing himself once more. "With all of that said, I owe you an apology for not disclosing our family's plans to extend your… service as a bodyguard of sorts, Okkotsu-san."

"It's not a problem. I live to take orders from my superiors, after all."

"That's a pretty grim outlook on life," the older man stated before posing a question about the Kamo heir. "Are you familiar with him? Kamo Noritoshi-kun, I mean."

"Noritoshi-kun is the husband candidate closest to my age. We only met briefly once and he was pleasant to talk to. For that, I'm actually rather relieved," you said with a smile that didn't really reach your eyes. "I'm surprised the Kamo Clan even bothered to respond to my father's request all the while the Zenin Clan had been sending out messages to him, too."

"We've only worked together briefly, but I can tell you that he's an all-around good guy. Responsible and honest to a fault," Yuuta replied with the same smile that seemed more synthetic than convincing. "You'll be in safe hands, Otome-san."

"That's… reassuring to hear," you said with a nod, allowing the uncomfortable conversation to fizzle out in order to escape. "Well, I… Marin-chan and I ought to continue our preparations."

That was a lie, since Marin had already prepared everything you needed ahead of time. Yet she understood the look you threw at her the moment your eyes met, and you both bowed before the men in unison before disappearing into the main house.

Kazuya watched as his younger sister faded into the backdrop of the estate before he eventually turned to the younger man left wondering as well. "Okkotsu-san, if you don't mind me asking, how have the past few days been for you? I trust your needs have been met…"

"Ah, yes, Koganei-san! I really have no words for how well your family has treated me…"

"That's heartening to hear. Rest assured that you'll be compensated accordingly for this mission as well," Kazuya continued. "And my sister… I trust she hasn't been troublesome to deal with."

"N-No! Not at all," Yuuta raised his hands in defence. "Otome-san has been nothing but kind and pleasant to me. It's a pleasure to be of service to someone like her."

Kazuya was surprised to hear that from the young sorcerer. Most of the older sorcerers previously tasked with looking after you found you a little bit too demanding for their age and liking— but they all agreed that you were a kind young woman. He expected you to make a bit of mischief with someone around your age handling you, but you were on your best behaviour now.

Or was it because of the demands your father imposed on you that you're finally taking things more seriously now? Either way, the entire thing was an anomaly to Kazuya.

"That's good to hear. You must have your own preparations to make as well, Okkotsu-san. We'll leave you to it," he said as he casually slid his hands into the sleeves of his hakama. "I can have one of my men drive you to your home."

"Thank you, but there's really no need for that, Koganei-san. Your home is located in one of the most scenic places in the city, so I might just take a walk around the area before I head home."

"I see. I suppose a walk around town would be nice," the older man said, only for him to impose a subtle question. "But you must have a girlfriend to hurry home to."

"Uh, no. Not really," Yuuta said with a more sincere yet sheepish smile this time. "I've been… Well…"

"You don't have to answer that question, Okkotsu-san. I apologise for being nosy," Kazuya chuckled at him.

"If you don't mind me asking, Koganei-san…"

"Yes?"

Kazuya was told that Yuuta could be a bit inquisitive if something piques his attention, and something about this mission must have set him off.

"What does Otome-san think about this arrangement?"

The young clan heir fought the urge in his lips to crack into a crooked smile that could let on more than what he intended.

"Well, you can expect a biassed comment from me, but she has all the time in the world to answer your question once you're on your way to Kyoto."

—

Though Yuuta made several attempts to talk to you throughout the day, all have been rebuffed by Marin, who simply said that her mistress needed her rest, for many days of celebration await her when she arrives at Kyoto. You were thankful for her presence and always counted on her to help set you on the right track, but sometimes you wished she wasn't so attentive.

Nightfall marked your final evening with your family in your home— in the meantime, at least. If you and Noritoshi come to a mutual understanding in your short homestay, you will have to inform your family that you agree to the marriage. They will head to Kyoto, with your marriage and union the final seal to the deal.

The meeting was just a pretence, for you truly had no say in this matter at all. Same goes for Noritoshi, who has no choice but to accept you as his bride as decreed by his family. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement for both your families, but it didn't put much thought into your compatibility. All you knew is that the Kamo Clan wanted another heir to secure their foothold in Jujutsu society and they needed new blood for that to happen.

Did your father not at all consider that you might be unhappy with the decision? Perhaps not. You were expected to conduct yourself as a lady of the house would, not a spoiled daughter like you already were. More importantly, he somewhat underestimated the gravity of your gift— your cursed technique— so much that he even ignored the advances of the more cutthroat Zenin Clan.

It was clear that your father did not account for reprisal. It made you think if the trouble and violence that comes with making a choice and choosing the lesser evil was worth it.

Kazuya selected Yuuta from a line of capable sorcerers as your second guard because a whole retinue of sorcerers from your family will only invite unwanted attention. Though Marin was raised and trained to be an attendant, she knew the basics of having to defend her master.

It was only when you were fast asleep and already halfway to Kyoto when your single vehicle was ambushed by sorcerers with a distinct cursed energy that raised so many alarm bells in your head. The sedan screeched to a stop with your path barred and a shadowy curtain laid above your position.

"Looks like the Zenin are trying to bargain," Yohan sighed as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Y-Yo-chan! Where are you going?!" You asked nervously as Marin prepared to spirit you away from the scene.

"To bargain, ojou-san," the older man stated. He took a deep breath and removed his aviator sunglasses, carefully dispensing it in your hands. "No need to worry. I'll be back."

"Yohan-san, I can—" Yuuta started, unbuckling his seatbelt as he watched the older sorcerer turn off the car's ignition. He was swiftly cut off, however.

"Your task is to keep Otome ojou-san safe, Yuuta-kun. I trust you can do that while I'm occupied with these—" Yohan clicked his tongue in obvious annoyance. "—uninvited guests."

"But they're—"

"A trifle in our trip, so I'll be quick."

"No! Yo-chan! We're not—" You cried out anxiously, only for you to be hastily pulled out of the car by Marin, who was ready to make a run for it. "Marin-chan!"

"I am charged to keep you safe, ojou-sama. If Otou-san says he'll handle it—"

Yohan and Yuuta were finished conversing, the tired look in the young sorcerer's eyes replaced with a glint of tenacity.

"Otome-san, Yohan-san needs the area. We'll come back for him," Yuuta tried to coax you out of the car willingly. "It's a terrible turn of events, but this is why we're here. Why I'm here. Just as you have faith in me, have faith in him, too."

The anxiety in your heart boiled over ever since you left your home. It did not bubble down even as you slept soundly moments ago. You were gripped with the fear of losing those precious to you when you're finally married off, but this panic you felt right now was something else.

"He's right, ojou-san. Have a little faith in this old man," Yohan chuckled at you. "I promise you I'll be quick."

Yohan was just as much of a father to you as he was to Marin. He was the kind of man who was married to his duties, thus his current unmarried status. He once said that he'll retire when the time is right, and it's never too late for him to get married since he's quite the looker, or so he once joked.

"Hear me and obey, Yo-chan," you stated, feigning bravery as you stepped out of the car. "Return to me!"

"Of course, ojou-san."

You slipped his sunglasses over your eyes before running off with Marin and Yuuta, his blade unsheathed as he watched your back for any attackers. Those who dared to follow you were swiftly dealt with by Yuuta, whom the Zenin did not take into account when planning this ambush.

It was only when you were running that you completely gauged the situation. The Zenin sent out a unit of sorcerers that were plenty in number but were short in cursed energy. So much so that Yohan's cursed technique, Gold Smoke, eclipsed their barrage of attacks.

From the distance and hidden in the bush, you saw how the ambushers fell to the ground like flies dropping dead as the curtain was dispersed.

"You know, ojou-sama, it's unlike you to worry so much about otou-san," Marin remarked as she crouched down next to you. "He's dealt with more dangerous situations than this before."

"You're right. I somehow forgot that he's a First Grade sorcerer," you replied with a sigh, deciding against speaking about your irrational fear of losing those you love. "Even if Yo-chan finishes soon, we've already been derailed from our appointment."

"I already informed Kazuya-san about this, Otome-san. He will get in touch with the Kamo Clan and inform them about this incident," Yuuta stated rather calmly. He didn't want to spook you any further by talking about details and the chances of your circumstances turning into a serious crisis. After securing your safety, he was just about ready to jump into the scene to assist the older sorcerer, but his intentions were unnecessary when you spotted your car's bright red tail lights blinking in the distance.

The signal, he thought to himself, nearly in disbelief. He really did them in.

True enough, there was nary a hint of the other party's presence in the area, the blow of the gentle evening breeze the only thing you could feel apart from the rush of blood in your ears.

"Stay close to me," Yuuta told you as he straightened his back and angled his blade in defence. Marin nodded at you to follow his lead as he walked out of the bush and back onto the main road. Your guardians sandwiched you between themselves, an air of caution and aversion as you all approached Yohan, his favourite cigarette lighted between his lips as he stood by the driver's side of the car.

A wave of relief washed over you as you three stood before him, all the adrenaline leaving your body as you fell on your knees, much to Marin's surprise. "Y-Yo-chan…"

The older sorcerer grinned at you as he caught you by your arm. "I told you I'd be quick, didn't I, ojou-san?"

"And you nearly gave me a heart attack, too!" You retorted, tears pricking your eyes as you broke into weak laughter. "I can't do that again, Yo-chan… The next time this happens, I—"

"No, that is enough. After all of this, I simply cannot, in good faith, send you to the Kamo House," Yohan stated firmly. While he was known to be fiercely loyal to the Koganei Clan, he wasn't above showing his masters the error of their ways. He shook his head with what seemed to be a look of disappointment. "I warned the master against this, that your gift is both a blessing and a curse and should be nurtured… But instead he chose to sell you off— The decision itself is inconceivable!"

Marin was taken aback by this sudden outburst. "Otou-san! What are you saying?! You shouldn't speak against our master—"

"Marin, my child, this is madness! Sending our young mistress to one of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans as though she is nothing but a breeding mare," he spat out the stubbed out cigarette. "They're making a mistake sending her there. To the Kamo House. To the Zenin House. Fortunately Gojo-san is sensible enough to—"

Yohan was visibly disturbed and angered by the turn of events. His fingers shook as he raised another of his cigarettes to his mouth, unable to spark a flame with his gilded lighter. It was only when you gripped his wrists that he steadied himself once more. "Ojou-san, please… Just say the word. Say it and I will gladly take you back."

"I…"

I want to go home.

"I'll take whatever punishment the master has for me if it means you'll be safe back home."

But there is no going back from this.

"No, Yo-chan. This is my duty. To our family, first and foremost. I can live a lifetime of unhappiness and displeasure if it means I can secure the clan's future. They've drilled it into me for so long that it was impossible to avoid, even when I became an idol."

So that's what she thinks about this, Yuuta thought to himself as he watched you purse your lips. However, there was simply no concealing the shine of your tears that soaked your lashes even underneath Yohan's aviator sunglasses. You would subject yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness and live with it if it meant your own family could live comfortably undetected and protected by one of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans.

But still, why would someone willingly walk to their own undoing? Why curse yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness? He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"We'll take a detour tonight, ojou-san. If the Kamo Clan truly values their ties with our family, they will agree to meet us at a rendezvous point first thing tomorrow morning," Yohan finally stated as he urged the three of you to get in the car once more. "I will take responsibility for this excursion, so please take this opportunity to take it easy and rest up after all that's happened."

"All right, then…"

"And if by tomorrow morning, you've had a change of heart, we can always return to Tokyo," Yohan reassured you once more as he started the car and drove off as though nothing happened, even though the incident stirred so much unrest in your heart.

It took about an hour of driving before Yohan took an unexpected turn and another 20 minutes of untraceable road before the vehicle eventually ground to a halt outside a well-maintained ryokan concealed deep in the woods edging Kyoto. It didn't take long for you to notice that there was a curtain around the area.

"This place is owned by a good friend of mine," Yohan started as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "They've maintained this place for as long as I can remember."

Soon enough, an older woman around his age stepped out of the ryokan to welcome your group. She had an elegant, cordial smile on her face that suited the muted orange kimono she wore.

"It's good to see you well, Yohan," the elderly woman said with a warm smile as she rested her gaze on you. "Ah, and you must be the lady of the Koganei House. You truly are as lovely as he recounted. Your guardian has told me much about you… And this one must be your Marin. How pretty you are as well!"

As for Yuuta, she only had a quick nod when she recognised him as one of jujutsu society's Special Grade sorcerers.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the proprietor of this inn. My name is Irino Izana. My husband and I are long-time friends with your Yohan."

"Irino?" You asked curiously. "Do you happen to know an Irino Izuna-san?…"

"Why, yes. She's my daughter. I— Oh, it's you. You must be the one… The idol she so adores dressing up in elaborate clothes and costumes. I couldn't believe it at first when she said you were…" Izana stated with a rueful smile. "Just like her, she said— a girl from a sorcerer family who found her way to stardom."

It clicks in your head all of a sudden. The reason why Izuna adored you so even when you were just an idol trainee, why she favoured you over everyone else in the group. You were just like her.

"Izuna-san has since retired from her idol work and from her costume designing. Has she… been well?"

Izana averted her gaze from your face. "Yohan said that you are to be the bride of the Kamo heir. Your family must be overjoyed that you're fulfilling your duties…"

"Um, yes, I suppose," you replied with a small smile. "If… If Izuna-san is here, I would love to see her…"

Izana raised her eyes to meet yours, a subtle sharpness in her gaze that seemed more like a look of regret. "My apologies, ojou-san, but Izuna isn't here. You must have heard from your agency… the reason she retired from her job."

"Oh. They said she was going to get married, but…"

You and Yuuta exchanged glances, to which he said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Irino-san. If it's alright with you, Otome-san would like to get some rest."

"Ah, of course. How silly of us to be standing here when I should have welcomed you inside. Please, please come in! I will have our attendants carry your belongings to your lodging," the elderly woman said, her demeanour back to that of a hotelier.

As your group was ushered inside the quaint traditional inn, you quietly caught Yuuta by his sleeve, prompting him to slow his steps so that you were side by side.

"Ojou—" Marin attempted to pull you back next to her, only for her to be stopped by Yohan. "O-Otou-san?"

"Leave them be. He is capable of protecting her, but I doubt anyone would find us here."

"But—"

"Otome knows what she is doing, Marin."

"She is disregarding her obligation to the masters of—"

The older man shook his head. "She is simply deciding for herself."

The spacious ryokan allowed for your small group to each have their own room. While the quiet night was perfect for resting, too many thoughts raced through your mind for you to even lie down on the futon carefully laid out in the middle of the room.

Was Yohan serious about returning home if you said you wanted to? More importantly, he was ready to accept whatever punishment your father would give him, all for your sake.

The pearly white moon hung perfectly in the middle of your window like an exquisite painting. It was hard to tear your eyes from its beauty, so you beheld it even more by resting your head on the window sill.

"Izuna-san must have been married off, too."

She did not have someone who would intercede on her behalf. Perhaps you may have been more spoiled than the other daughters of sorcerer families… Because how fortunate were you to have someone like that in your life? Yohan did not want you to live a lifetime of unhappiness. He did not want you to curse yourself to a lifetime of displeasure.

And happiness for you was so simple. Being able to continue the work you love. Receiving the adoration of your friends and many fans. Drinking Yakult after a long day at work. Dressing up in all of Izuna's finely crafted costumes.

"Mm…" You hummed to yourself as you recalled those precious moments that are now just memories meant to be cherished.

—

Yuuta couldn't sleep either. But neither could Yohan, and they were equally surprised to find each other downstairs at the common area. While the older sorcerer made use of the yukata provided by their lodging, the younger one was still in his clothes from earlier that day.

"Are you having trouble sleeping, Yohan-san?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Yohan replied with a chuckle. "I used to work with the owners of this inn back when they were still sorcerers. Surprisingly, they got together one day and the rest was history."

"Ah, so that's what Irino-san meant when she said that you were good friends."

"Yes. Her husband was mad jealous of me back then, too, but I never understood why he felt that way," Yohan stated as he fished out his lighter and pack of cigarettes.

"He must have thought you were a rival for, uh…"

"Izana? What a joke," the older man snorted, bringing a cigarette to his lips. "I would have accepted him being more jealous of my skills rather than being interested in the same girl. After all, Yoshitaka despised how I went about my work since I had very little regard for it. He came from an esteemed sorcerer clan while I was an outsider to jujutsu society with no significant ties to any family. It was only when Seito— Otome's father— commissioned me to be his guard that I found myself an anchor in this society."

"I see…"

"Izana is a good friend, but I never liked her that way," Yohan said as he blew a puff of smoke away from Yuuta's direction.

For Yuuta, it almost seemed like the more experienced sorcerer was basking in his nostalgia— wistful, even.

"It was good that Seito-sama offered me this position when we met off the bat. He is a good master— he pays well and is an attentive clan leader, but he's not exactly the wisest when it comes to reading people, especially his children," the older man said with a small laugh. "If he had taken the time to get to know his children better, he would have known that ojou-san loves her work as an idol and that she makes so many people happy. That Kazuya-kun only has eyes for one person and one person alone and he could never have him— not in this lifetime, at least… If Seito-sama had grown to understand her, he'd know for certain that he would be cursing his daughter to a lifetime of unhappiness."

Yohan adjusted his aviator sunglasses, but Yuuta couldn't miss how red his nose had become.

"Yoshitaka made an offer before Seito-sama did, but I rejected it because I'd be cursing myself to a lifetime of unhappiness too, had I accepted it. He despised how modern I was compared to his more antiquated ways. If I had accepted his offer, I wouldn't be the person I am now. I would have been tied to his outdated beliefs, too," he continued with the same rueful smile on his now-evidently tired face. "I might have loved him, but I valued my freedom of being more than anything."

Loved?

"What? Yohan-san, you—"

"Cursing yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness… What bullshit," Yohan shook his head. "If ojou-san decides to return home, I will show her father the error of his ways. That is if she does decide to… But if she insists on pressing forward with the rendezvous, then I have no choice but to heed her orders."

Unhappiness was the very same thing Yuuta cursed himself with. He tormented himself with a life of contentment without wanting anything— anything at all— because why on earth was he free to live his life while she— Rika— had to die? Yet it wasn't like he was the cause of all of it. Why did he blame himself for something that was far beyond his control?

Wanting always leads to loss, after all, he told himself. But what if it didn't have to?

"You know Otome happens to be very fond of you," Yohan stated with a smile. "Somehow it always felt like her family knew this would happen. That's why they always hired older sorcerers for these kinds of jobs. Still, Gojo-san himself insisted that you take this job."

"I didn't think much of it, either," Yuuta replied with a small chuckle. "Otome-san has been pleasant to work with…"

"And what do you think of her?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"What do you think of her?" Yohan repeated his question. "Especially since you know that she looks upon you with fondness."

"W-Well, she's… She's beautiful, kind, and warm… I, uh…"

"Does she make you nervous?"

Yohan noticed how the younger sorcerer went bright red at his queries. He couldn't help but laugh all of a sudden.

"Y-You know you shouldn't make fun of your juniors, Yohan-san," Yuuta managed a weak rebuttal. "O-Otome-san is a wonderful woman, but— But I know where I should stand in this—"

"This circus? This sham of an engagement?" The older sorcerer replied as he stubbed out his cigarette. "I know you aren't as gutless as you make yourself out to be, Yuuta-kun. I think it's about time you started using that status of yours to your advantage. It's not just for display, is it?"

"But… But what if it's just me?" Yuuta said with a slight quiver in his voice. "Rika will never forgive me…"

"But what if it isn't just you?" Yohan shot back at him. "The dead can neither forgive nor dictate what it is the living can still do. And I mean no disrespect to her, but what you're doing to yourself is tantamount to emotional suicide."

"I'm afraid that if I want her too badly, she… She might—"

"Listen, kid. The worst thing that could happen is her wanting you just as much."

—

For once in a long time, Yuuta had a grasp of what he wanted— For himself, more than anything. He could still hear Yohan's voice in his head apart from the blood rushing in his ears as he hastily made his way to your room. He had no idea if you were already asleep, but he needed you to know something.

So when you slid open the door for him after he asked if you were still awake, you were both equally surprised. And equally at a loss. And equally waiting, anticipating, the thumping in your chests seeming unheard, but you could— You could feel your heart in your throat now. What the hell was going on?

And Yuuta couldn't tear his eyes off you. He meant it when he said that you were beautiful even in this state of undoneness— your hair unkempt, your yukata slightly left open, the twinkle of wonder and confusion in your gaze that made him want to answer your every question.

"It crossed my mind," he told you, finally breaking the silence. "Taking you away. We can go wherever you want to go."

"Y-Yuuta-san? Wh-Whatever do you mean?…"

"I hope you don't find it strange that I… want to be at your beck and call. And… And I know it won't be much work at all because you want so little—"

You stepped into his space and carefully brought a hand to his cheek. He was shaking in his spot, but he sank into your palm so comfortably and contentedly and the sigh of relief he breathed out was just so warm.

"Do you even know what you're doing to me now?" You quietly asked him. He held your wrist in place when you tried to pull away from him.

"Without a doubt, I like you more than you think…" He chuckled. "I wish you'd trust me to be honest, even for just a little bit…"

What?

"You… like me?"

"Is it a terrible idea for you?"

"No, no, not at all," you shook your head at him. "But why… Where is this all coming from?"

"I… had a little help," Yuuta stated with a nervous smile as he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "And I know I'm wanting something— someone way above my paygrade—"

"You're silly," you cut him off with a laugh. "You're a Special Grade sorcerer. You can have anything you want…"

"So long as I work for it."

"Then work for it," you said, taking his free hand into yours to finally pull him into your room. "You said that you didn't mind being at my beck and call, so does that mean you'll do whatever it is I tell you?"

Yuuta visibly swallowed at your question, but he allowed himself to be pulled in by your tender hold. He resisted so little when you pulled him down to your futon, his eyes now wide with surprise and wonder.

"Are you… holding back?" Your voice was hushed to a whisper. The ghost of a smile danced on your lips as you gently drew him closer to you.

Yuuta was a master of self-control, but the hardened warrior in him was rendered absolutely malleable in your hands as you pleaded to him with that look you gave him— that gaze so full of stars and a slightly crimson smile. Pretty girls with pretty smiles have always been his weakness. Not that he'd ever admit it, but it was already a given fact.

Rika. The girl in the picture had the most mischievous smile that was still so endearing to him, after all.

"You don't have to hold back at all."

His resolve crumbled bit by bit the lower your yukata fell off your shoulders.

"The work you do is hard. If… If there's any way I canmmf—"

He closed the distance between the two of you with one swift kiss, one so chaste that it pulled at your heart and made you think twice about seducing him further.

"I think you do plenty," he murmured, his warm forehead resting against your own. "I'm no stranger to being adored, yet it does feel quite different coming from a living, breathing heart."

You were done appeasing ghosts from the past, but that didn't mean you would disrespect their memory.

"Because I'm certain Rika-san would want me to cherish you."

No, you weren't, but did any of that matter at all now? You adored him now. And now is all you have.

"You're not sure, are you?" He chuckled, the tiny smile on his obviously tired face slowly melting into a thin line. "You should know that I… I've never been with anyone at all, so I may be lack—"

"What? And you think I'm some expert at this?" You said with a small smile, warm hands on his even warmer face. "Oh, Yuuta. I've never wanted anyone as terribly as I want you. I—"

His fingers gently dug into the skin of your thighs as he lifted you onto his lap, lips on lips as you coaxed him to soften his tense shoulders.

You didn't need the light to know that he was flushed all over.

"I am yours," he breathed the words against your cheek. "If you'll have me."

"I most certainly will."

Something about the way he spoke to you made you tear up. How you wish you could kiss away the hurt that was so evident on his face.

"The moon is exquisitely beautiful tonight, isn't it?" You whispered against his brow. A low hum of agreement that left his lips tickled your neck.

"You're still prettier," he mumbled back, curling his arms around you to pull you even closer to him. You gently collided with his bare chest, allowing him to hold you tighter.

"Don't say that," you chided him before running your fingers through his dark hair. "Mm…"

"Is something on your mind?"

"No, nothing at all," you told him, contentedly resting your hand on his nape.

"Can you sing for me?"

"Demanding things from me now, are we?" You said with a laugh.

"I heard you humming something earlier this evening. Can you sing that one?"

"Now that is above my paygrade. But since you asked so nicely, I might just…"

Yuuta released you from his embrace and allowed you to sit up, pulling up the covers with you while he watched you with rapt anticipation despite his sleepy gaze.

"I'm who I am, as I am; you're who you are, as who you are— The final words you whispered, before you left me with a scar."

"On your familiar silver jacket splattered coffee's left a stain, destined always to remain… And still we're lost inside the habit— Tears reflecting in the pane show our pitiful refrain."

You brought your hand to his cheek once more, but he grasped your fingers to press a tender kiss on your palm.

"Stay with me… In the dead of night I'm banging on your door. I'm begging you, without you I'm done for. Now the winter arrived, like the tears in our eyes—"

"Stay with me… While your voice remains an echo of the past, I'm holding on to moments that won't last. I will never forget, I will never regret our love…"

This time, he felt courageous enough to pull you down back next to him and press another kiss on your lips, tasting your sweetness once more along with the saltiness of your tears.

"Are you okay?" He asked you, your face in his warm hands. A look of concern lit his eyes as he surveyed your expression. "Are you cold?"

"I'm fine," you said. It was your turn to grip his wrists in place this time. "There is something I must tell you, though… A-And I can understand if you feel it will be such a huge undertaking for you."

Yuuta sat up and helped you up as well, sensing the seriousness of this conversation. "I'm listening."

"My family… My cursed technique is called Soul Resonance. A binding vow between a fellow sorcerer and I will allow me to turn into a weapon— any weapon you might desire. I, uh… You must have realised by now why I am so against my arranged marriage. I cannot allow myself or my cursed technique to be used by someone I don't know. Someone who may abuse this power," you stated as you wrung your fingers around the covers over your shoulders. "And this… This binding vow will be for eternity. My power will be yours until the day I die."

It finally dawned on Yuuta why two of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans wanted you into their fold and why your presence stirred so much controversy. You lowered your gaze in shame, your mind now grasping at straws and desperately thinking of ways this revelation could go wrong, and how he could outright reject you… But he stepped up, and you thought to yourself that I should, too.

"Yuuta… You wanted nothing from me but me. You will neither yearn for nor despise my power because you have no need for it," you said, finally raising your eyes to meet his steady blue gaze. "You want me simply because you adore me."

You couldn't get a read on his expression, but it was soft and somewhat sympathetic.

"So I feel my power rests safe and well in your hands, while my heart is safe next to yours," you concluded with a small nod. "Only if you'll have me."

It was a power that ostracised you, much like him when he was just starting as a sorcerer. How could he not understand where you were coming from? And your wisdom— the way you knew full well that it would be a source of conflict if not managed well. His desire to protect you as charged to him flowered into a desire to hold you close simply because he adored you.

Yuuta smiled at you before eventually taking your hands in his, raising your cold knuckles to his warm lips. "I would want nothing more than for your heart to be safe next to mine."

— Where my heart is safe.

It was a soundless, wordless understanding when you and Yuuta stepped out of the inn hand in hand. Yohan simply nodded at you both and gestured for you to get in the car. You turned to the boy, who gently released your hand so you could bid farewell to the owner of the establishment.

"I must thank you for accommodating us, Irino-san," you said with a smile as you bowed down before the older woman. "Um, if you have any means of communicating with Izuna-san, I'd like for you to tell her that I… I'm well, I followed my heart, and that I forgive her. And that I hope she finds it in her heart to forgive herself, too."

Izana held your gaze for a moment before smiling back at you. She took your hands in hers and gently squeezed them, as though letting you know that things will be alright from here on out. "Of course. I'll be sure to let her know."

When Yohan approached the older woman, they simply exchanged a quick but heartfelt embrace. "Be safe, Yohan. I'll let Taka know that you dropped by"

"No need," he replied with a grin. "I'm certain he still despises me to the point of cursing my existence."

"Yohan," Izana stated as she caught him by his hand. "Taka may have resented you a little for rejecting his proposition, but he never hated you."

Yuuta was quick to notice the change in the older sorcerer's expression, the hint of yearning that flashed across his aged face—

"We should get going, Yo-chan," You called out to your guardian as you read the notification on your mobile phone. "I just received a text from Kazu nii-san telling me to return home…"

"What? Did he just send that message now?" Yuuta asked. You nodded as you handed over your phone to him. "Yohan-san."

"I hear you, kid. We have to go."

"What? Wait, what's going on?" You asked, evidently confused by Yohan's sudden sense of urgency as he hurriedly urged you to get in the car.

"We'll explain on the way back."

—

And it was just how Yuuta and Yohan described the whole thing. They were warned beforehand that the Zenin Clan did not take rejection well, so they should be prepared for anything, such as the attack from last night. Kazuya instructed them that he will be their point of contact and he will inform them of the clan's decisions before they made their move. But if he ever reaches out to his sister instead, that is something else.

It was an emergency.

Sorcerers from the Zenin Clan surrounded your estate's perimeters, but they allowed you entrance since it was you they were looking for, after all.

The Zenin Clan sorcerers did not permit Yohan, Marin or Yuuta to accompany you to your family's audience hall, but a single nod was all it took for the three of them to understand. Do what you must.

In the middle of the estate shoin sat the ever domineering head of the Zenin Clan, and he stank of alcohol even though you were still a metre's length away from him. Your clan's servants were gathered around him like he was the master of the house, while your father and brother sat adjacent to him.

"Oh, I can see now why Naoya's so upset—" Zenin Naobito stated before taking another swig of sake from his glazed ceramic bottle. "She's as ripe as a peach."

"Zenin-sama," you greeted the older man. You tried to do so warmly, but your expression betrayed you as your lips curled in disgust, a look he didn't miss.

"You wound me, girl. I would have had you flogged for looking at me that way if you were my daughter."

"Yes, so you see now why I'm trying to avoid that from happening," you shot back at him, much to your father and brother's surprise. You saw Kazuya shake his head at you, his sharp gaze telling you to stop it with your smart mouth.

And yet Naobito responded to your amusing quip with thunderous laughter. "What a quick witted girl you are. Though you'd be dead by now if not for that cursed technique of yours… The blood that flows in your veins. Since you want to be all smart with me, you know by now what will happen if you refuse to acquiesce to our clan's generous offer."

"The only thing that's going to happen is you and your clan leaving my home," you stated. "Or do you want to do this the hard way and be kicked out instead?"

Naobito unceremoniously dropped his bottle of sake on the tatami floor and turned to your father. "Seito! You said she would be an agreeable girl!"

"She—"

You raised a hand to stop your father from speaking any further. He quieted down, much to your surprise.

"My father and I will speak later, Zenin-sama," you continued. "But you will leave my family alone after this. You won't find much value in me, after all. Not after I—"

A scuffle by the entrance of the audience hall prompted your house's servants to gather in a single corner while your father and brother rose to their feet to shield them from possible harm. But the smoke was glimmering gold, which only meant one thing— Yohan cleared the way.

"Otome!"

From the smoke emerged Yuuta and his unsheathed blade, his arm outstretched toward you as you lunged right at him, meeting his open arms and kissing him then and there. You paid no mind to the gasps from your family's servants, the sounds of the clashing blades and heavy footsteps fading into the distance as you suddenly felt completely weightless.

Your shared cursed energy easily and effortlessly melded together, allowing you to take the form of a gilded weapon he was most adept at using, your spirit form now perched upon his shoulder.

"She formed a binding vow… with that lad! Special Grade sorcerer Okkotsu Yuuta!" Naobito slowly rose to his feet, the same look of amusement on his face as the gilded blade was aimed at him. "I should have known this worthless family would pull such a trick!"

"You forget just how fast I am, old man," Yuuta stated point blankly, unfazed by the older sorcerer's tirade. "Perhaps not as fast as you, but I sure as hell can take you in a fight."

Naobito came here at his youngest son's behest— the spoiled thing— and he expected almost little to no resistance from your family. Seito was a known sycophant and he would have willingly handed over his daughter to keep the peace. The Zenin didn't account for Yuuta at all, and that you had a mind of your own. "Tch."

"Her offer still stands, by the way. Either you take your filth out of their home or I'll do it for her."

And how embarrassing would be it be for the rest of the society to know that he, of all people, attempted to bully a low-ranking clan into submission.

—

While you and your father were busy ensuring all of your family's staff and servants were accounted for, Yohan and Yuuta were surveying the estate's perimeters.

Kazuya was making important phone calls to the magic college when the door to the master's den slid open.

"Kazu nii-san, it's Satoru nii-san. He came to check on us after that thing," you said with a smile.

Satoru entered the den with an unreadable expression on his face though his blindfold hung around his neck. "Kazuya."

But your older brother had an aggrieved look on his face as compared to his usual annoyed expression. "Where were you, you idiot? I called you as soon as they started raiding our home—"

"I'm sorry. I still came here as soon as I could—"

"Stop apologising, damn it! I'm so tired of it!"

In a rare moment of weakness, Kazuya dropped to his knees in tears, no longer caring for how his hakama creased and wrinkled up under his weight. Satoru got down on one knee and carefully placed a hand on his friend's quivering shoulder, not at all sure if he would be rebuffed.

"Hey, ojou-chan. Why don't we catch up later?" Satoru told you, the confusion on your face clear as day. "Your brother and I have to talk for a bit."

"Oh, uh, o-okay then."

You slid the door closed behind you, only to find Yuuta standing right outside the den.

"I heard that Gojo-sensei just arrived."

"Ah, yeah. He rushed all the way to nii-san, though… He was, well… pretty upset about the situation and how Satoru nii-san didn't come much sooner."

"Oh, I see…" Was all he could say, because while you were bewildered by your older brother's unusual unstable reaction, he knew the reason, perhaps a little bit too well. The sadness in Yohan's voice was so palpable, after all. Kazuya-kun only has eyes for one person and one person alone and he could never have him— not in this lifetime, at least…

Yuuta made a conclusion he couldn't quite share with you yet. He must have felt abandoned by sensei.

"We should wait for them outside," he told you with a small smile on his face. He took you by the hand and everything was well in the world again, for you, at least.

"I suppose I have some explaining to do, after all," you replied with a sigh of defeat. "B-But don't worry! My father is an agreeable man a-and we have Yo-chan on our corner, too."

"About that…"

As he gently pulled you out by hand to your estate's sprawling gardens, you found your father Seito and Yohan conversing just under the aged ginkgo tree, its golden foliage akin to a canopy overhead.

"I think Yohan-san gave your father the scolding he threatened to give," Yuuta chuckled as you stood side by side. "It fills me with confidence that we have someone like him in our corner."

"Mm…"

"I'm only a little worried. The binding vow we made will tie us to each other for eternity. After having resonated with you, I understand why you wished for this power to end up in the right hands. I'm not saying I am the right choice for this, but I… I'll endeavour to…"

You squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. "I know, Yuuta."

He squeezed your hand right back before eventually lifting it to his chest. "And you… might feel obligated to accompany me on missions, but I'll never require you to do so…"

"I'm not really that noble, Yuuta, so I'll be sure not to get in your way. Also, I doubt that HQ will let me join you since I'm technically an ungraded sorcerer— I'm pretty much like a civilian, to say the least."

It was your turn to chuckle this time. "However, we'll have to register this… newfound relationship that we have, for formality's sake. We are weapon and meister now."

"Ah, of course."

"And you do know the best way to keep our power safe is by marrying into my family, correct?"

"Well, I— w-wait, did you say marry into your family?!"

"Oh, is the thought so disagreeable to you?" You pouted at him this time, only for the corner of your lips to drop to a small frown. "But I understand your apprehension… You were once engaged, after all…"

Padded footsteps from behind you made their approach, another pair closely following.

"Ojou-chan, you aren't a replacement for what he lost. Yuuta sees you as you are. He understands that you and Rika-chan are two different people, thus he should see you differently."

It was Satoru with a Cheshire Cat grin on his lips. His blue eyes were concealed beneath his dark blindfold once more, the look you and everyone else was more accustomed to. Closely behind him was your older brother, no more tears on his face yet the corner of his eyes remained red from his weeping.

"Yuuta's pretty gutsy going against the wishes of three clans, especially when he doesn't even have a claim on you. Then again, he has his big name and high status to gamble on," Satoru stated with a small shrug. "There's so little to gamble on, anyway. Noritoshi didn't stand a chance and neither did that Zenin brat Naoya."

"Yes, all according to plan, just like you said," Kazuya said with a wave of his hand. "I believe I owe you an apology, my dearest little sister."

"Did I hear you right? You… you just said Satoru nii-san planned this?"

"Well, not the whole fiasco with the Zenin," the silver-haired man replied. "But yes… I orchestrated the meeting between you and Yuuta. Only because your brother begged me—"

Your brother quickly elbowed his friend. "I asked Satoru to find you a suitable match, one that didn't require you to leave home or sacrifice yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness."

"But—"

"Satoru told me that your first meeting sparked a need within you both, or at least that's how he understood the situation. After all, he said that Okkotsu-san was absolutely bewitched by your presence."

Yuuta immediately turned red at the very pointed truth your brother had just told you.

"So you didn't know about this, Yuuta?"

He shook his head at you, a hint of defeat evident in his smile. "Not at all. Though I suppose sensei knew how to use my very weakness to his advantage…"

"Pretty girls with pretty smiles," Satoru stated with another cheeky grin. "But once he sets his eyes on someone, that's the end of the game."

"Did Yo-chan know about this… plan of yours?"

"No, it was just me and Satoru," Kazuya stated as he shook his head. "Though knowing how much that old man adores you, he might have had an inkling… More importantly, you and I have something to talk about. If you'll excuse us for a while, gentlemen…"

Your brother offered his elbow to you which you gladly took, slipping your hands to grip his arm as he led you to where your father and Yohan stood in the middle of your estate's garden. As Yuuta eyed your retreating figure, Satoru clamped a hand on his pupil's shoulder.

"You can always start wanting things again, Yuuta. Her death was beyond your control. None of what happened to her was ever your fault," the older man said. It was a truth so plain and simple yet something Yuuta had such a hard time believing.

Rika died of an illness, one that plagued her since childhood. Her dreams of becoming a sorcerer by his side were nipped in the bud, for Yuuta wouldn't allow her to die a sorcerer's death, which was such an undignified death… She died a human, her heart full of love and gratitude for those who loved her and cared for her in her final days.

And the last thing Rika bade him do was to live a life of happiness, because that's what he would have wanted her to do if he were in her position.

How could I have forgotten that? Yuuta shook his head and simply smiled to himself upon remembering.

"There is a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve who has fallen in love for the very first time in her life," Satoru patted his pupil's back. "What you can control now is how things will move forward from here."

"I know, sensei. I guess I just feel a little… apprehensive," Yuuta chuckled rather nervously. "I mean, you said it yourself, I went against the agreement of three sorcerer clans and entangled myself with the Koganei Clan's precious daughter— even though I'm just a nobody."

"A nobody?" His teacher laughed at the incredulous statement that left his lips. "You're Okkotsu Yuuta, one of this generation's finest Special Grade sorcerers. The Koganei should be more than grateful to welcome you into their fold. And if their old man gives you shit, which I doubt he will given how spineless he actually is, you're just going to have to remind him who's protecting his house."

"I-I wouldn't go that far, sensei…"

"Only if he gives you shit."

"I hope he doesn't…" Yuuta muttered to himself. "I-I'll work hard to earn his approval. A-And I'll cherish Otome, so…"

From across the garden, you eyed the anxious smile that lit Yuuta's face as he spoke to his teacher. About what, you'll never truly know. All you know for certain now is that things are about to change in your family's way of life, especially with how they regard you.

"I'm an old man. I can't keep up with all of this. And after all that's happened, I have enough reason to believe that our family's faith in me has been shaken," Seito stated with a slight raise of his hand. "It's good that you've made your preparations to inherit, Kazuya. I feel… No, I believe that you're better equipped to lead our clan in these ever-changing times…"

Your father admitting his ineptitude came as a surprise to you, but not so much to your brother, who simply nodded in agreement.

"And what are your plans now, Otome?" Your father asked you, the edge in his voice gone and replaced with genuine concern for your future. "That binding vow you made with that young sorcerer will tie you to him for the rest of your life. Are you ready for that kind of commitment?"

"O-Of course! I-If it's with Yuuta, I'd be more than happy to!" You said, suddenly conscious about the heat rising to your face. "I… I want to get to know him more. And if he'll let me, he and I w-will have all the time in the world to…"

From where he stood, Yuuta could see just how flustered you were while the older men simply chuckled at your enthusiastic response. He knew that you meant well, too. That you would nothing more than for his heart to be safe next to yours, too.

~ ten months later.

Your marriage to Yuuta was conducted in the shadow of your older brother's inheritance ceremony. It was an even more private traditional ceremony that officially welcomed him into the Koganei Clan. Your marriage still took place despite all the apprehension he felt, but not much changed afterwards. Neither of you wore any wedding bands and he never took your name— and you didn't mind that at all since none of those formalities mattered to you, anyway. All that mattered to you was that he would come home to you at the end of every day. While his mandated work from Jujutsu Headquarters still took precedence over clan duties, he still proved to be a capable enforcer when called upon by Kazuya.

Yuuta owed much to his brother-in-law, after all, especially since he vouched for his merits so he could marry you without so much of a hitch.

Still, there was more to your brother's relationship with your husband than they let you in on, even more so when Kazuya started persuading you to return to your work in the entertainment industry.

"No one wants to see a married idol, nii-san," you joked to him, but the look in his eyes was serious. "Do you… actually want me to start working again?"

"Why not? If you can't be an idol anymore, I'm sure there's a demand for you somewhere else. In fact, why don't you ask that smart manager of yours?" He told you from across his office table as he browsed through his usual paperwork.

"Nii-san, we've arrived," came a most familiar voice from outside his den.

"Perfect. Come in, Yuuta. I believe you have a surprise for my sister," Kazuya stated as he set down the documents he was reading. As the shoji slid open, you were elated to see your husband come home from running errands for your brother, but an even larger smile lit your face when you saw the person who entered right after him.

"Sa-chan!"

"Oh! Otome! It does my heart good to see you well!" Sana happily exclaimed as she returned your embrace. "And I'm even more excited to see you return to work!"

"B-But who told you that? I…"

"I… did," Yuuta stated. "I'm sorry for being so presumptuous, but I… can see how much you miss your work every time you watch TV or check out your socials. You should know that I don't want to stop you from what you love. I know how passionate you are about your craft, s-so I—"

"I told Yuuta to get in touch with Kagomura-san," Kazuya finished his sentence. "You should be doing something you love rather than just languishing here at home, Otome."

"R-Right he is, Otome! Oh, Kyou-san will be thrilled to have you back at Mieux Folie, but not as an idol anymore. In fact, when Okkotsu-san reached out to me, the agency was mulling over who to give this certain movie role to, so it's like fate!" Sana squeezed your hands in sheer excitement over the possibility of signing you back in the agency as— "It's your acting debut!"

"And you're okay with this, n-nii-san?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Kazuya answered your question. "I'm not like our old man. I actually see value in your talent as an entertainer."

"Really?" You quirked an eyebrow at his statement.

"Of course I do," he stated with a thoughtful hand on his chin. "If you become an actress, you'll be invited to all sorts of events and occasions. Maybe you can tell a friend or two that you have an equally good-looking older brother—"

"All right, Sa-chan. Let's do it," You squeezed her hands back with a newfound exhilaration. "I'll sign back on with Mieux Folie, but only if you promise to be my manager."

"As if I'd say no to that!" Sana stated with a smile on her face. "You know, Otome, Okkotsu-san is a pretty generous husband. Other husbands would want their actress wives to give up their careers to focus on their families instead, but he's here pushing you to pursue your dreams."

"Isn't that thoughtful of him?" You gave your manager a cheeky grin. "I suppose earning a little pocket money before we try for a baby is a great idea."

"O-Otome!" Came Yuuta's nervous interjection. "P-Please don't neglect to tell me if you're feeling strange or under the weather. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you without us knowing if you're actually pregnant…"

His concerns were eased when you took his hand this time and lifted it to your face. Just as your hearts were tied together by your marriage, your souls were tied together by something far greater. "Believe me, sweetheart. You'll know."

~ one year later.

"Is this thing on?"

You spoke into the screen of your mobile phone as you sat on the cushy couch in your spacious living room. After having starred in Onodera Noah's directorial debut film "Ever I Wander", which kickstarted your work as an actress this time around, you and Yuuta moved out of your family's estate to a condominium unit in the city. Your job as an actress demanded much of your time, but always made it a point to reserve days for rest with your husband, who was distant from the living room yet visible onscreen as you went live on your preferred SNS account.

[ Aaaaaa ]

[ It's Otome-san!!! ]

[ I can't believe you're going on live today! ]

[ What a great morning! ]

[ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ]

[ wwww such a blessed day!! ]

[ Good morning, Otome-san! ]

[ … ]

Numerous comments and reactions from your adoring fans and followers flashed and rained on your screen as you confirmed that you were indeed livestreaming at the moment.

"Hello, everyone! I hope you're having a lovely day so far!" You waved to your screen with your megawatt smile. "I'm just hopping on here to give everyone a big thanks for supporting Noah-san's work, 'Ever I Wander', and of course for supporting me in my first-ever acting role as Hinarin."

[ ❤️❤️❤️ ]

[ You did such a great job with Hinarin!! ]

[ ❤️ ]

"I'm so glad everyone loved the film. Noah-san and I have been good friends for quite a while now and I can attest to his dedication to his craft and the calibre of his work. I'm certain he's still on a high after the film's release. 'Ever I Wander' is such a profound piece of media that tackles so many relevant themes of our time, so please recommend it to your family and friends!"

Yuuta approached you with a bowl of freshly cut fruit, careful not to appear onscreen but many eagle-eyed viewers saw his arm enter the frame.

[ Is that your husband??? ]

[ Wow I can tell from his arm that he works out!! ]

[ ❤️❤️ ]

[ … ]

[ He has such a mysterious aura… ]

[ But didn't he accompany her on the film's premiere? ]

[ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ]

"Yes, that was my husband. He just handed me a bowl of my favourite fruits. Isn't he just the sweetest?" You couldn't help but gush and beam as you happily showed off the fresh and juicy fruit slices neatly arranged in the bowl. "His job requires him to work out a lot and I suppose it shows even though it isn't his intention to brag about his build. All the better to lift me, I guess!"

[ 😂😂😂 ]

[ 😂 ]

[ He must be the strongest soldier wwwww ]

[ 😂😂😂 ]

[ Can you please show us the photo on your background? ]

"The photo on my background…" You repeated the comment before eventually turning around to point at what the viewer mentioned. "Aha! Another one of Noah-san's works! This was from my last photobook after I retired from my idol work two years ago."

[ It's so risque 😳 ]

[ The theme is kinda sexy?? ]

[ 😳😳😳 ]

[ ❤️❤️ ]

The blown-up photo was one of you and Yuuta, a memento Noah sent you as a wedding gift. Just as he said before, you were the focal point of that photoshoot and Yuuta was just a mere framing device. With his back turned from the camera, he was an alluring mystery that gave the photo an even more charming appeal to the viewer.

"Noah-san really knows how to make magic, doesn't he? My husband and I were so surprised to receive it, but we figured it had to be displayed somewhere…"

[ Your husband is sooo lucky!! ]

[ I say Otome-san is lucky with her husband he's hot wwwww ]

[ ❤️❤️❤️ ]

[ Will you ever show us your husband?? ]

[ ❤️❤️ ]

[ Let's respect their privacy ]

"You're right. My husband and I like things the way they are and I don't want to spook him by asking him to come on cam with me. He's actually very shy… But I suppose that's what makes him so charming."

Yuuta chuckled at your remark, just enough for your viewers to hear. Your screen erupted with hearts and even more reactions when he reached out to ruffle your hair.

"He is my home, and I'm so happy that my heart is always safe next to his."

Your coffee table vibrated as your work phone lit up with a call from your manager Sana. You picked it up. "Hello, Sa-chan?… Oh, right! Of course, how could I forget?"

You turned to your ongoing livestream once more and gave your viewers another smile and a kind bow. "I'll have to cut our conversation short because I have some work to do! Thank you all again so much for your support for 'Ever I Wander', and for me in general! Please stay safe and let's talk again soon!"

[ Livestream ended ]

"I'll drive you," Yuuta stated as he grabbed his black jacket on the couch. "Send me the details on LINE."

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to! I know it's your day off and all and you should be resting…" You told him as you fixed your setup and dismantled your little tripod.

"And miss out on seeing you on the job again? You know it's always my pleasure to be at your beck and call," He said with a small laugh. "Plus, I want to make sure you get there safe."

"You're right. What better way to ensure my safety than by driving me there yourself?" You replied to him before planting a tender kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, baby!"

What was once his duty became his very pleasure— standing right next to you as you both pursued your dreams, your hearts safe and content right next to each other.

✦ Original post (From Sept 2023, updated date to Feb 2024) ✦ Paraselene Playlist ✦ ✦ AO3 Link

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#reader insert #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta x y/n

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lunar-beauty · 3 months

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s1 stancy + interview quotes

Joe Keery: “In the first season, it's this love sick thing—they’re both in the throes of beginning this relationship.” — Glamour

Joe Keery: “Meeting Nancy and pursuing her at the beginning of Season 1 is sort of this catalyst for massive change in this kid’s life. He truly falls in love for the first time.” — Entertainment Weekly

Natalia Dyer: “It’s really hard to imagine where things would have gone for Nancy had Steve not been such a complex character in her story. In their story. That I think would’ve changed the course of things quite a bit.” — Video

Joe Keery: “Looking back now, it’s like he lived his life a certain way prior to meeting Nancy. Sometimes you meet people in your life that change the trajectory of the things that you think are important.” — Stranger Things: Worlds Turned Upside Down

Joe Keery: “He likes her because she’s different from everyone else, especially other significant others he’s had in his life. In that scene in the bedroom in the beginning, he talks about how she’s not like the other girls. The Duffers and I talked about what kind of family life he comes from and maybe this girl, Nancy, is quiet and listens in a way that other people haven’t listened to him at this point. Makes him feel a little bit more comfortable revealing a sensitive side, and I think that’s an attractive quality that she has and he admires in her.” — WSJ

Natalia Dyer: “At first it didn't seem like the obvious choice [Nancy choosing Steve in the S1 finale]. You know, I respect that, but you don't want to do the opposite just to do the opposite. The [Duffer] brothers talked to us about it and it really just makes the most sense, if you think about it. I know everyone is really shipping Nancy and Jon—Jancy, I guess, is the word—but the whole thing takes place over a couple days. For Nancy to end up with somebody that she just met, even though she has a boyfriend who really does care about her, just didn't quite make sense. I think it ended the most logically, for sure.” — Harper's Bazaar

Matt Duffer: “It felt like in a movie world she winds up with Jonathan, who is seemingly the nicer kinder gentler guy. But it felt almost more real to us that she would wind up back with Steve, this heartthrob who she’s had a crush on for a long time. It’s surprising, but it felt more honest.” — Variety

Joe Keery: “Nobody thinks of themselves as the villain, they think of themselves as the hero. That was my justification for some of the stuff Steve does. From his end, a lot of the stuff Jonathan does is super creepy and weird. He’s protecting this girl he’s really in love with.” — WSJ

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #st cast #joe keery #natalia dyer #stancy + interview quotes #stancy #my posts #posts: st

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sheltershock · 5 months

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I was thinking today about how Sasha and Milla both got burned for using telepathy/mind reading on another person without their consent and I liked that it played out that way. I think realistically if you had the ability to read minds you’d also be traumatized by the thoughts/fantasies of others. Plus it adds more subtext in PN2 when Sasha scolds Raz for trying to bend someone else’s will to his own. Because that’s what he did when he was younger. Major props. Psychonauts is so good at subtext that’s why I love the writing, and it’s ability to be whimsical and silly but also realistic and gritty at times.

But then I thought about their constant psychic link. It’s cute, nice little relationship thing between them. However, when taking the mind reading trauma into account… that psychic link probably wasn’t easy. At least in the beginning.

I mean the last time they did any level of telepathy/mind reading it went so awfully that both of their lives changed trajectory in an instant. So the idea of doing that again in general must be terrifying. I’m sure they both decided to form that link, but even having known each other there could be that aching fear in the background that the other person might accidentally hurt them.

Maybe the link was a form of therapy for the both of them. And they might have not even shared/said anything over it for a while. It could have been strictly professional at first, reminders for meetings, information relay, communication in the field, etc. They’re both still a little tense though that they’ll accidentally share something unrelated.

Milla was probably the first of them to share something over the link that was non-work related. Something mundane, like appreciation of the view from her office, or a compliment of the music she can hear through the wall, or what’s being served in the cafeteria that day. Something simple. And he’d answer back and they’d continue with their day. The first thing Sasha would have sent over was probably observations, non emotional observations. Construction being done, new colors being painted, or saying it’s colder outside and to bring a jacket if she’s going to the Quarry that day. They get a little more confident after a while. They share things they know the other would like. They start having longer conversations. There’s more emotion. People can observe them smiling at seemingly nothing more frequently.

Once a little bit more comfortable they’re talking about what they did that weekend, Milla struggles to describe exactly what her experience was like the other night. She offers to share the memory directly. She can feel Sasha tense up on the other side. The conversation ends. The next day, he offers her to send it over. He’s spent the entire time preparing for it, telling himself over and over that it’s her, that she’s offering, that it’s probably fine. And it is. Milla’s delighted and they move on, though she checks to make sure he’s not hiding a bad reaction from her. They’re both fine.

But that’s one of the things she’s very aware of. Long stretches of time where Sasha won’t say or respond to anything at all. She can hear swears through the wall during this brief times, and he hardly ever leaves his lab either. She understands why, everyone has bad days. But sometimes he does reach to her, because she always offers an ear to everyone. But she always makes it a verbal conversation. She just can’t seem to push past the irrational thoughts that the source of his frustration might be her. That she’s not a good enough agent, a good enough friend, a good enough partner. And she knows that he’d never say any of those things… to her face. But if she would read his mind she’d know for sure.

And one day he asks again if he can talk to her, and hesitantly she agrees. Over the link. And she spends the entire time waiting, waiting for that dreaded Freudian slip. But it doesn’t happen. And he finishes his thought, and they both continue on, except Milla finds herself in tears in her office. And she finds herself reaching back over to talk some more.

Over time and each individual thought, memory and experience, they’re both confident and far less afraid as they used to be. Their fears aren’t completely gone of course, but it’s them, specifically. And they know where the other’s sore spot is, and are more than willing to provide a warning for anything triggering. They find themselves using their telepathy abilities with others from the newfound confidence. Projecting their own thoughts to another, but only one way though. Only in the other do they feel truly safe enough for a two-way mental link. And was preciously an isolating, vivid and painful experience is now one where they are never truly alone, and it’s peaceful and it’s comforting.

Just a thought.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #sasha nein #milla vodello #sashamilla #I think the implications of their mental link with their backstories is very interesting #it’s really fun how we see a major catalyst in their lives and how they are now and we’re just left to guess the stuff in between #and you can have thoughts like this because of that #I love the subtly in psychonauts’ writing so much #headcanons

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improbable-outset · 18 days

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📄 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: none, just fluff

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You didn’t expect the mysterious man that you met at a wedding to change your whole trajectory of the night

You rarely attend weddings unless it was for immediate family. However, you haven’t seen your childhood friend in a long time. After you graduated high school and went off to college, you both haven’t been in touch since.

So when she invited you over to her wedding, you couldn’t turn down an offer to see an old friend and celebrate the new couple.

The air in the venue was charged with energy as the guests mingled to meet the newlyweds. The sounds of rhythmic heels clicking and collective cheers provided a backdrop in the room.

You tried to allow yourself to be in the moment and enjoy yourself, even if you didn’t know a lot of people here. You did manage to converse with the bride’s parents who still remembered you from your childhood.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, you found yourself drawn to the periphery of the room. From your vantage point you caught sight with a lone figure.

He held a stern expression and stood with an air of mystery, a stark contrast to the laughter you were surrounded with. His posture was upright and stiff with his gaze fixed on some distant point amongst the dance floor.

He had a large muscular build. Even under his dress shirt, you could see how broad his arms were that were crossed over his chest, with one hand holding a flute.

Before you could even get a proper view of him, your attention was taken away by a collision with a hurried wedding guest. He apologised profusely before he made his way into the throng of people, leaving you disoriented.

When you tried to look back, he was no longer where he once stood. Surprised, you quickly darted your eyes around the room but it was hard to see from where you were standing.

You made a beeline towards the edge of the room to get a better view. Your gaze swept over the gathering guests— since he was a tall figure he could tower over almost everyone here but despite that, he was nowhere to be found.

Even if you only saw a glimpse of him, you felt a tad bit frustrated that your chance to see him again was now gone.

You decided to step outside to one of the balconies in hopes of getting some clarity. There was the underlying hope that you’d find him from the balcony view.

Although you doubt anyone would ask about your whereabouts, you’d just give them the excuse that you were feeling hot. It was justifiable since the room was starting to feel stuffy.

The cool night air brushed against your skin. Just as you opened the door to the balcony, you caught sight of the man from earlier again and you felt your heart stutter. Even if you were trying to look for him earlier, you weren’t fully prepared to see him again.

He had his back towards the door while leaning over the railing so you couldn’t see his face. He must’ve acknowledged your presence after hearing the door click open.

You stepped further into the balcony and moved a little closer to him but still kept a comfortable distance.

He still retained the same cool and unwavering demeanor as he silently turned to look you up and down briefly before his gaze shifted away at the far distance again.

His chestnut hair was slicked back and his jawline was sharp. However what really struck you the most was the crimson hue of his iris.

It wasn’t welcoming but it was less cold compared to the first time you laid eyes on him. Perhaps it might be because you were both alone, away from the chaos inside.

You cleared your throat before you made your first impression. “So are you lost in your own thoughts or are you deliberately avoiding the crowd,”

He didn’t turn to look at you, still looking afar at the view but he definitely heard you. “I wouldn’t call myself lost,”

His tone of voice matched his stoic presence— monotonous yet there was an underlying richness to it, even if it was just a simple sentence.

“Enjoying the festivities at least?” You said, attempting to break the barrier of his aloofness.

He turned his head to look at you with his face still neutral from any expression. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Nah you’re blending in just fine, I wouldn’t have noticed,” you said instinctively. You had to bite your tongue back before you said anything else. You barely even knew him and you already threw a lighthearted sarcastic remark.

Judging by the way he had carried himself so far, you would expect him to be put off by your comment. Much to your surprise, however, you saw a flicker of amusement that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Oh, I’m doing just fine blending in?” He mused, you could hear the slight shift in his tone that emphasised his interest in the conversation now. He was starting to be more engaged and it made you feel a tingling sensation in your chest.

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone noticed you’re out here,” You hoped that was the case. It didn’t appear like anyone was actively looking for him back inside and it seemed like he came here alone.

But you didn’t want to make any premature assumptions, so you just had to hope no one would interrupt your conversation.

“So, what brings you out here? I assume the same as me,” he asked.

“I needed some air,” that wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. But you weren’t going to admit that you came out here just to spark something with him, even if he was anything but approachable.

“Out of all the spots in this building for fresh air, it had to be the balcony?” He prodded, a tinge of heed in his tone.

You didn’t expect to be put on the spot like that. You were already stepping out of your comfort zone just by talking to him, but having him ask you an open question like that made your ears heat up in slight embarrassment.

You chewed on your cheek, trying to come up with a plausible answer. Hesitantly you replied, “Uh yeah…higher grounds,”

“No other reason?” He was lightheartedly taunting you now even if it wasn’t his intention.

Either you were a terrible liar and he could sense you weren’t telling him something or he was just stringing you along.

“Nope,” you quickly steered the conversation before he could say anything extemporaneous, “Weddings have a certain charm, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” he shrugged before he continued. “But I’m sure most people are here for free food,”

“Well, between you and me…I’m here for the cake,”

“At least one of us here was being honest. The cake does look delicious,”

You continued, eager to keep the conversation going now, “I heard each tier is a different flavour,”

“I heard there’s even a coffee flavoured cake for the coffee lovers out there,”

“Uh huh..so what’s your excuse for lurking out here in the shadows,”

“Why don’t you guess?” He let the sentence hang in the air, like the answer wasn’t already obvious.

Even if he was here to get away from the crowd, there was still the nagging thought that he might’ve come here with someone and they were still looking for him back inside.

“Right, so I’m assuming you came here alone too?” You brought up the question, trying to sound as casual as you could.

“That is the case,” you felt a fraction of relief wash over you after he confirmed that, but you didn’t make it obvious in your body language. “You came here alone as well?”

“Yep. I’m from the bride's side,”

“The bride's side, huh? Well I’m here from the groom’s side,” he paused momentarily before he spoke again. “I guess we really are alone over here,”

“A connoisseur of the corner space…or the balcony,” you said lightheartedly.

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert but it is comforting here,”

It was and his presence made it feel more refreshing. Originally, you weren’t planning on staying any longer than necessary.

This wasn’t your scene at all and you wanted nothing more than to be back in your familiar confined space. But now after talking with this man, you wanted the night to last longer.

You felt the tingling sensation in your chest again, but this time there was a sudden urge to take a risky approach. “Well, if you do decide to go back inside and venture into the madness… I could save you a dance,”

The fluidity of your tone came out smoother than you expected. There was no biting back on your words now and you watched his reaction intently.

“Really now? Save me a dance?” He echoed. His words elevated his amusement as he arched his brow inquisitively. However what really surprised you was when he rose from the railing to stand upright before you.

It dawned on you how tall he truly was. You quickly back peddled. “Unless that’s outside of your element,”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” he confessed sheepishly.

Neither were you, but you didn’t want to put him off. The rest of the conversation felt like it was guided but pure impulse now.

“Well no one had noticed us before when we were inside, so I don’t think anyone would notice us when we’re dancing,”

“And do you usually offer men to dance with you,” he asked. The question was unexpected. You weren’t usually this bold when it came to talking to men, let alone inviting them to dance.

You were more reserved and kept to yourself but tonight you really surprised yourself with your uncharacteristic forwardness. Yet, he was unaware of this side of you and probably assumed you were just here for a good time.

“Not always but since we’re both alone we might as well make the most of the night,” you answered, though you weren’t going to admit that you wanted more than just a dance.

“Fair point, one dance couldn’t hurt,” It was hard to tell where the rest of the night would take you, but at least now you weren’t alone.

And you hoped that he would let you stick around a little longer. He stepped closer to you and held out his hand.

“I still haven't caught your name yet,” you said as you gently took his waiting hand. His large fingers curled around yours in a soft grip.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara. And yours?”

This is actually a snippet of one of my ao3 exclusive series

I also made a c.ai bot inspired by this if you’re interested

Btw, I will be interacting with your fics and reblogging from my second account @lmaoyouwhore (don’t pree the blog too hard, it’s still under construction lol)

#★— ayrus writes #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x you #atsv miguel #spiderverse miguel

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navigatebetweenthelines · 1 month

Text

An in depth analysis of the first chapter of Stormbringer:

[CODE;01] Nothing more than 2,383 lines of code

Tl;Dr at the end 💕

In this analysis i will be identifying the authors behind The Flags, the metaphors, uses of symbolism as well as how Verlaine's actions changed the trajectory of Chuuya's character arc.

The symbolism behind the first chapter of Stormbringer is phenomenal. Every light novel I read I come away with a million details I adore, but this one is so full of them. I had to point it out.

It all starts with Chuuya's job. His career in the mafia is a beautiful metaphor for his shift to the Port Mafia. In its description Asagiri specifically uses the phrase, “giving the gemstones a new life”. The process is described as bringing a valuable thing out from the criminal underbelly to be reused and resold. Chuuya has already been compared to a diamond before but here it takes on a new meaning and a new context. It becomes this toxic symbol for the treatment he endures and the life he has accepted.

To explain how Chuuya being compared to a gem is toxic, I first need to explain how Yosano and Chuuya are foils. Foils are important, authors use them to make the reader compare characters with similar origins so the finer details stand out and it’s easier to see what went wrong. Funnily enough whenever they are first in a scene together Chuuya and Yosano are at ends. With Yosano on the ground and Chuuya above her. They are literally the inverse of each other. Isn't that so cool?

Okay so briefly, Fukuzawa and Mori parallel each other. A bodyguard and a surgeon. One actively tries to avoid conflict the other benefits from the needs that arise from conflict. Fukuzawa brought Ranpo with him as his main reason behind starting the detective agency. Mori threatened Dazai into staying and securing his position of power. Ranpo and Dazai, at that point in the organization's timeline, are representative of the potential their organizations hold. They both propel their organizations into unprecedented success. They both only survive because of that organization.

Ranpo only survives because the Agency appeals to his strengths. Dazai only lives because Mori tricks him and holds his life hostage. The first people they hand pick to invite into their organization represent the impact they have: Yosano and Chuuya.

They are both victims of abuse from the military. They were both “freed” to a situation that only constricted them even more. Ranpo reminded Yosano of her kindness and offered her a place in the agency to be kind. Dazai pointed out the sheep's betrayal and offered a place in the mafia in exchange for the sheep's safety. The same thing happened: A man meets a boy, the boy meets a friend. Obviously one is more awful than the other. That’s what makes them foils but that’s not all.

Yosano's ability saves the people she loves and keeps her safe. Chuuya's ability threatens his life and the lives of those around him. One came out of military abuse confident and proud. She was showered in care and attention. The other came out of the military and immediately faced a constant onslaught of violence. His existence appealed to the greed of several men and led to their demise. Obviously this isn't Chuuya's fault but it's a clear difference. Yosano was met with kindness and Chuuya faced selfishness.

The most important difference between them is the metaphors assigned to them that represent their “redemption”. Like Chuuya’s gem metaphor, Yosano has a symbol that represents her change to an agency member, her butterflies. Through adversity she changes and shifts into a new creature. Her wounds literally become butterflies. Her faults, her failures, only feed her growth.

The difference is heartbreaking because the jewel’s second chance is only seen as successful based on its ability to satisfy the tastes of others. A butterfly’s second chance at life, however, is successful if it lives. It's evolution is in pursuit of a better life and it flies. The butterfly is free, it changes and redeems itself for the sake of its own survival. A jewel is changed by slowly chipping away at its body and forming it in the tastes of any given person. His faults, his failures, only discourage him, forcing him to furthur isolate. A jewel never benefits from any of the "polishing" it receives.

Yosano earns her redemption through her kindness. Her kindness and the kindness around her grows exponentially. She cares and is cared for in turn. She is a testament to the peace the ADA can bring to a person over a long period of time.

Chuuya earns his redemption through violence. His violence grows exponentially. It just compounds. Stormbringer shows that perfectly. It only leads to more violence and more misery. Violence finds its way to him and he finds a way back to it. He is a testament to the horrors a person can face in the Port Mafia over a long period of time.

This is where Kafka Asagiri's writing becomes exceptional. These metaphors are conditional. They only represent how they changed to fit their organization. Chuuya doesn’t have to stay a gem for the Port Mafia. That metaphor isn't at all tied to his character, he can still divorce himself from it. He can give up the idea of being that perfect jewel of a weapon for the Port Mafia and be alive. AND THAT'S THE RUB.

A butterfly is alive. It can breathe, eat, reproduce, die and most importantly fly. A butterfly is FREE from gravity. A jewel isn't alive. It doesn't eat or breathe or reproduce and the only death it can have is a gradual fade into irrelevance. This implies a lovely concept alongside the themes of the book as a whole. Whether Chuuya is or isn't human is irrelevant when the Port Mafia doesn't treat him like he is. He forfeits his humanity as he conforms to the ideals of the Port Mafia. An organization he originally hated.

There is a small hope in The Flags. They are a small pocket of kindness and warmth in the dark criminal world. They show him kindness and of course he reacts to it with violence (it's what's kept him safe for so long) but they are patient. They don't let that violence expand. They catch the multiplying waves of malice and Chuuya is given a rare opportunity to be kind. Kindness in the Port Mafia is wild (Especially back then. I wouldn't trust it tbh but that's me). For a moment, for a very very beautiful moment, Chuuya feels the expanding effects of kindness. Even if it is very small, it might have eventually been enough to jostle him out of that instinct to rely on violence. He was growing :( he was healing, he was getting better!!!

This is where Verlaine really fucks everything up but first let's discuss The Flags (or The Young Bloods or The Young Wolves. All really good names really. Wish they had more than 10 pages of screentime).

The Flags all symbolize something. I mean flags are inherently symbolic. As a concept a flag is a symbol of a greater collection of people. But each member represents something important.

Lippmann symbolizes Chuuya's desire for peace.

He is likely inspired by the real life American author Walter Lippman. He was part of the negotiation for the Treaty of Versailles that stopped WWI. He wrote from then, through WWII and well into the Cold War. During the Cold War he wrote his most influential pieces criticizing both the war as a whole and the response to it. His most well known book, Public Opinion, might be what Lippmann's ability is based on. In that book Lippmann claims that a direct democracy, like America has, is dangerous and unsustainable because of propaganda. (Likely the connection between Lippmann's ability and the novel is that because Lippmann could always identify the root or motive of an issue he could resolve it. “Use a person's motive against them” ) He made the point that because the government had been using the media to manipulate how people see themselves and others there could be no way to trust consensus.

THAT is why Lippmann (the character) is so important. Walter Lippmann was keenly aware of the influence the government had on the psyche. He argued against it.

This is so important because Lippmann is the first body Verlaine shows Chuuya. He's the one that is pulled from the chaos and stored in his trunk. He is the one Verlaine goes out of his way to taunt Chuuya with. Lippmann represents an ideology that Verlaine is entirely against. That the ideals a government pushes is wrong. Walter Lippmann argued against stereotypes (he coined the word btw. He's that girl), against negative perceptions of groups of people, and he is against a falsified version of reality that people hold onto (he called them pseudo-environments). Verlaine is everything Public Opinion was warning against. Verlaine is detached from reality and is using a burrowed rational (FROM THE GOVERNMENT) to justify the horrible things he's doing.

The idea that Verlaine and Chuuya are curated soldiers manufactured for the sole purpose of chaos is a lie, a half-truth. Lippmann represents a desire to reject that lie and not act on it. By showing off Lippmann's body first Verlaine has symbolically taken the idea of an identity outside what the military has labeled him from Chuuya. And then he does it literally! He opens Chuuya's gate and causes mass destruction. He proves that first. He uses the half truth that Chuuya's body has been altered to prove that Chuuya can't possibly be human.

Ideally Lippmann would have been able to negotiate Verlaine out of it but that's not possible. That's another one of my favorite parts of this book. Verlaine is so far gone to delusion that he is inconsolable. There is no talking to him. There will be no reasoning with him. Lippmann being unable to bring peace to the situation is especially tragic considering what he represents for the Mafia as a whole.

Lippmann represented peace (and Verlaine could have started a world war with all the political figures he tried to kill). If you look back you'll notice The Flags never shoot or attack until Lippmann does first, they all wait for his cue. Piano Man ordered Lippmann to shoot first. The Flags would pullbout their weapons and threaten but they would always wait until Lippmann believed violence was the only answer. His main job was negotiations, his is possibly the only truly altruistic position in the Port Mafia. SINCE WHEN was the PM making deals and playing nice with other organizations? Since when did they ever consider the needs, wants or desires of their surrounding organizations? That is so uncharacteristic of the PM. I think Lippmann might be the only time ever the PM has been described as an organization that considers the needs of others. The whole point of the PM is that they are the worst of the worst so they can control how bad things get. Lippmann's negotiations aren't necessary considering the main objective of the Port Mafia but his inclusion represents a small (emphasis on SMALL) hope of a desire for peace within the PM. Not just from Chuuya but from the organization as a whole. The fact that no one has replaced him since his death really cements how small a hope it was. (Verlaine really took all hope and happiness with him to that damn basement.)

More importantly, Lippmann working there and creating a semblance of peace proves that maybe Chuuya could have done the same. Verlaine has killed Lippmann and with it the idea that Chuuya might be able to do good.

The rest of The Flags he kills in secret, or at least he doesn't show them off to Chuuya the way he did with Lippmann. It is important to note that Albatross, out of everyone, survived long enough to at least be conscious when Chuuya was there.

Verlaine has a thing for blondes. He keeps Lippmann's body like it's a fucking souvenir. He also doesn't demolish his body. Keeping it recognizable and intact enough that it is a surprise when Chuuya steps into the bar and sees so much carnage. He intentionally leaves Albatross alive. Verlaine had to know he was leaving Albatross alive. He isn't an idiot and Albatross was a loud man. I would even go so far as to argue it would be harder for Verlaine to fight someone and not immediately kill them. He can create black holes at will and do any other number of horrible things.

It had to be intentional that Albatross’ chest was torn open in a way that didn’t kill him.

I'm not going to say it's because he wanted Chuuya to see him die. That's too sadistic (it doesn't align with his goals exactly. He doesn't want to upset Chuuya, he just thinks upsetting Chuuya is an unfortunate byproduct of a better life) and I don't think he would have predicted Dazai would take him there. Especially considering how quickly Albatross died after Chuuya showed up. If he did plan that it would be a stupid plan.

But why are Albatross and Lippmann special?

Because they are blond. 😌

That sounds really dumb but listen. BSD has this thing where color really means something. Yellow specifically represents a character's hope. Specifically a character's hair color represents what their motives usually are. I will go in depth on why I think that eventually but for now let me expand on Verlaine, Albatross and Lippmann's optimism specifically.

They are optimists. I don't care, they are silver lining seekers.

“It's actually not a bad thing that the only person I trusted died because of someone I saved. It's not horrible at all because he was actually holding me back. Now that he's gone I can be free. Yes, that's exactly what this is. This is freedom.” How is that not Toxic Positivity?

Verlaine even uses humor to detach himself from a terrible situation.

Lippmann and Albatross are also optimists. To have a job that requires you to make peace in a system of organized crime that is often violent you have to have at least a little optimism.

Albatross, as he lay dying, can find solace in the silver lining that Doc is alive (he isn't). He gives Chuuya his motorcycle. Albatross finds a way to make his dark situation a positive one, even if it is in a small way.

Verlaine “favoring” these two is important because it shows even as he is killing these ideals for Chuuya (and by proxy himself) he wants to hold onto that hope. He wants there to be a silver lining. His silver lining is, in this chapter, Chuuya. Someone he calls family and hopes he might be able to escape isolation with.

Albatross is important as a character in this way because of who his author might be. Out of all the authors I've theorized might be what influences The Flags, this connection is the one I'm the most confident in. Albatross’ author is Charles Baudelaire.

Briefly Charles Baudelaire is an 18th century French Poet. He is inspired by Edgar Allan Poe and single handed translated all of his works into french. He is credited with Poe's popularity in France. Arthur Rimbaud hailed Baudelaire as one of his greatest inspirations and called him "The King of Poets". He PIONEERED prose-poetry, a style that Rimbaud and Verlaine wrote in frequently. More than that, if you try to buy books full of late nineteenth century poetry, the works of Rimbaud, Verlaine and Baudelaire are frequently sold together as a set. Which is so cursed for so many reasons.

Asagiri WOULD have come across the works of Charles Baudelaire in his research of Edgar Allan Poe, Rimbaud, or Verlaine. If he didn't use Charles Baudelaire in the Verlaine and Rimbaud story it would have been a crime.

But why would Albatross be the character that represented Baudelaire out of everyone?

Well for one Charles Baudelaire wrote a famous poem L'Albatros. In which he compares himself to an albatross that is pulled from the sky and cruelly beaten and broken by a crew of sailors. The brutality of what that crew does to that bird reminds me distinctly of the gore in the Stormbringer. This line from the poem specifically sticks out to me:

“riding the storm above the marksman's range;

exiled on the ground, hooted and jeered,

he cannot walk because of his great wings”

That is the main theme of Stormbringer in the most beautiful words possible. Chuuya's abilities are his wings. They only bring him closer to the storm (the chaos Arahabaki promises to bring). In this poem the albatross isn't afraid of the storm, it even protects them from being shot at. They are stronger for it but they are alone. The catch is that the Albatross can't ever land. If he does reach the earth, and modern society he is so much more vulnerable than he is in the sky.

With the earth being a metaphor for a meaningful social connection, in the way that they could both bring relief and safety, it is truly a perfect way to describe Stormbringer. The real challenge for Chuuya isn't the violence he faces, he knows how to deal with that, it's the risks and trials of trying to connect to someone. The unavoidable fact that all relationships are destined to end in death, in hatred or by the slow eventual drift that casts a pair apart. The terror of trying to belong in an intricate social system after years of having no healthy reference for what a safe and uplifting friendship looks like. It mirrors the terror of the albatross in the poem that fears walking the earth with its slow and insufficient legs. The sailors tie the albatross to the boat and laugh when it can't get away; that is what Verlaine fears. That is a perfect representation of what Verlaine wants to avoid. And It is that same risk that Albatross encourages Chuuya to accept and continue down the same path.

The Albatross also plays into the mirror Chuuya shares with Yosano. The two of them can fly and are incredibly vulnerable but they are free. Out of everyone in The Flags Albatross is the most comfortable and confident. He shares that ease that Yosano has in the ADA.

Albatross being based off of the King of Poets is so sweet because as another character based off of a poet Chuuya would fall metaphorically under his rule. Chuuya would be his responsibility and his to protect. The beautiful implication is that: under his care Chuuya might have learned to fly.

I’m going to make things worse by pointing out that Paul Verlaine was given the title “Prince of Poets” before his death. By killing Baudelaire he metaphorically inherited the responsibility and control over the narrative. He symbolically inherits control over Chuuya. This bit of foreshadowing is so beautifully hidden and meaningful. It’s such good writing. Asagiri is thinking in five dimensions.

I had my doubts about Albatross being Charles Baudelaire but I can't see another way around it. Albatross is a beautiful representation of Baudelaire whether or not it was intentional. If Albatross isn’t a representation for Baudelaire I would be shocked because no other author would fit into the story so well.

NOW!

Let's all take a moment to register and digest the sentence, “The King of Assassins murdered The King of Poets”.

Isn't that the most heartbreaking sentence? Especially when Verlaine's goal was to destroy every part of Chuuya that was remotely human. Verlaine killing the author that pioneered the form of writing he wrote in and inspired him is so perfectly symbolic of how Verlaine had wanted to divorce himself from his humanity. He didn't want to be heard or seen by humanity. He was cutting off every tie he had to it. This is great symbolic foreshadowing of how in the end Verlaine resigns himself to silence. Killing off Albatross cements this desire and irreversibly takes any hope of acceptance away from him. It symbolically takes away his literary voice, and his inspiration to speak. Isn't that fucking awesome. Isn’t that so fucking cool.

So then which of the three abilities is his? It isn’t the dinosaur one. It's the quicksand that appeared when they fought Adam. In The Albatross and several other Baudelaire poems, the earth is used to symbolize extreme misery. I think because Baudelaire studied to become a priest the imagery of heaven and hell stands out in his mind. The earth represents death, pain and defeat. He specifically associates it with the imagery of a corpse being lowered into earth. In Get Drunk, Baudelaire tells you to get drunk, “In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth,”. In The Albatross, the bird is exiled from the earth with the threat of abuse at its landing. In Music, he describes the seas beneath his boat as abysmal and a mirror into his own despair.

The poems that play the biggest influence in Stormbringer all describe land as something dangerous and terrible. You'll notice a theme in The Flag's abilities and strengths, the conflict in the original work becomes the weapon they use to protect themselves. Thus Albatross hurts others the way he had hurt, he traps people to the earth.

I’d like to reintroduce the two other poems that are alluded to in Stormbringer: Music and Get Drunk

I would like to briefly remind you that Albatross started drinking heavily early in the morning and he kept Chuuya up all night with his loud music. In both of these poems Baudelaire writes about escapism. Get Drunk, especially, is good at this. Explaining how through the frivolous things in life a person can find peace. The narrator hails anything and everything that will dull the ache of existence and claims a sober reality is too miserable.

Let's think about Albatross’ motives when he blasts music above Chuuya's room. Chuuya is a 16 year old boy isolated, grumpy and defensive. He has nothing in his room that makes the room his. It is little more than a cell. It would be so easy for Chuuya to feel alone in a place like that and he does. At the start he feels upset. It is over several things but the feeling of discontent persists through each new thought. Blasting music that Chuuya knows is from Albatross is a distraction from that, albeit an annoying distraction. It's harder to feel lonely with exciting music.

I’m going to bring up Yosano again because she’s my favorite and remind you of her main metaphor about how she can fly because she is free from what had bound her. In Baudelaire's poem Music, he describes the feeling of listening to music as if he was sailing. He specifically describes using the wind to evade the depths of the ocean. It isn't flying, but it is freedom from an oppressive force. A temporary, assisted freedom from a force that wants to sink him into a violent death. And to think that from a greater height the very same force can appear beautiful. Albatross blasting music for Chuuya alongside himself, says a lot. He wants Chuuya to be free from loneliness.

Baudelaire's Albatross was about horrible isolation and loneliness. The crew of sailors represent the harsh and hateful society that rejected him time and time again. The bird is tied to the boat and humiliated. The Albatross is a poem that perfectly represents how Verlaine sees himself in contrast to true humanity. He doesn’t think he’s safe, not emotionally, and because of that he fights against the rope (love) that ties him to the ship (humanity). He fights against the relationships that keep him wishing he were human.

Albatross is a direct foil to Verlaine. He takes Chuuya on wild adventures that push his limits and expand his skills as an individual. Chuuya benefits and becomes stronger as a result of befriending Albatross. Albatross is everything Verlaine says he wants to be for Chuuya. They both want him to feel less lonely. They both whisk him away to places that test him. They both see a potential future of loneliness in Chuuya that they try to weed out. Obviously one is more callous and abusive than the other but that's what makes them foils.

Albatross is there to prove at the very very core of it (beneath all the blatant disregard for life) Verlaine's intentions are kind. It is his actions, the things he justifies, and how he disregards Chuuya's wishes that make it harmful. And isn't that just the perfect explanation for (some) abuse? Sometimes it isn't a vile and evil creature like Mori that wants to break you down, sometimes it is misguided kindness. Verlaine, like Chuuya, had no healthy reference for what a relationship should look like. They didn't get a chance to grow up and learn to manage their emotions or gain a stable sense of security. All they could do was survive.

Still the point behind this distinction between Verlaine and Albatross is that the intention never matters. The end result never matters, the beliefs behind it never matter, none of these things justify abuse. Nothing will justify abuse, to intentionally harm another regardless of any context is disgusting. And Verlaine gets punished by the narrative for it.

Verlaine leaving Albatross alive is representative of his wish to connect with Chuuya. It represents a fleeting hope that perhaps he might still be able to show his love in a more productive way. An understanding somewhere deep inside of him that what he is doing is wrong. Verlaine pulled Albatross’ chest open, watched that heart beat and he let it. He still secretly yearns for that better version of himself. Of course the possibility of that happening dies with Albatross but the wish is still there.

I think it's important to note that Albatross specifically tried to save Doc.

He is not described as having any fighting experience. He is only a doctor. Above that he also admits easily to having thought about poisoninh Chuuya. He has an eccentric view of life and death and wishes to be closer to god. Doc is a cynic and a sadist. He eagerly awaits a grand war that will cause two million casualties (Perhaps he has prophetic powers considering how Fukuchi has recently confessed to knowing there will be a war ahead that will be disastrous).

If Lippmann represents a desire for peace and Albatross represents a desire for friendship then what does Doc represent?

He desires chaos. Chuuya does too. The two of them both crave violence when it serves their own goals. Chuuya becomes frustrated when his job is “too quiet”. He wishes for more violence because it will mean he'll become a mafia executive faster. Doc wishes for a great war so that he will be closer to god.

He is a doctor (obviously). His main goal should be to save as many people as possible and yet he doesn't. He is a doctor, he should be healthy but he isn't. If Chuuya isn't human, he shouldn't want or feel human things but he does. If Chuuya is human, he shouldn't be capable of so much violence and destruction but he is.

Doc contradicts the traits associated with a doctor the way Chuuya does with humanity. Doc represents an acceptance of that natural contradiction. No human will bow to the will of their expectations because that defeats the purpose of free will. Not to mention it would be impossible to satisfy every expectation. Mistakes will always be made and life will always eventually give way to death. This is unsettling to most but not to Doc. Doc is entirely comfortable occupying the space of a perfectly gray morality with his 500 lives lost and 500 lives saved. He doesn't care at all about the perception of those around him or any idea about the way he should be acting.

THAT COULD BE SO IMPORTANT TO CHUUYA. If Chuuya could just shrug his shoulders at the question of humanity and live his best life that would be awesome. Because at the end of the day it doesn't really matter, does it? Lovecraft isn't human, John S. is half tree, Nathaniel is human but has no will of his own, Atsushi is occasionally half a tiger, Demon Snow is an ability but makes its own decisions and has its own will, Elise might have her own will, Bram is a vampire, Fyodor says he's a god and Sigma literally doesn't belong to this reality. A drop in the bucket, really. That piece of information is largely irrelevant to the majority of Chuuya’s day-to-day life. Knowing the answer would change so little and trying to point to a specific part of an individual to try to prove humanity is a futile effort. To attempt to define humanity is a fruitless endeavor. There is no list of criteria that determines an individual's right to be considered human. And in a world with so many different identities it really doesn't matter.

I think it’s important to consider why exactly Chuuya wants to be human and confirm his humanity. I am going to point to the gem metaphor from before and say freedom. If everything he does is predetermined by a preexisting code how does he fit in an ever changing and ever evolving world? Control over his life and his actions is understandably a priority. After years of having so much of his autonomy taken from him of course he would want absolute free will. This is a bit of an overcorrection.

Nikolai is actually a wonderful example of how the obsession of absolute free will can paradoxically trap a person in a toxic cycle. “Chuuya can't be human because he is ruled by code crafted by scientists” sounds a lot like “Nikolai isn't free because he is ruled by morals and emotions forced upon him by god”. We are all a product of our surroundings, our genetics, and our influences. It is unavoidable, no one is above influence. In trying to be free from morality Nikolai has trapped himself in another set of rules, one made by him but a trap nonetheless. Verlaine later falls for the same fate. What defines us is our actions. That is the only thing a person can truly control.

Speaking of Genetics, let me introduce who I think was the inspiration for Doc. I think Doc might be Dr. Michael Crichton. He graduated from Harvard Med School and is the author of Jurassic Park. Don’t judge me. I could not find another well known book on dinosaurs anywhere and this just fit so well.

I forgive you if you laughed at that because the recent depictions of Jurassic Park haven't been very good. I would like to point out that the main theme of Jurassic Park was a lot like Frankenstien. Humanity vying for godhood and attempting to create and alter life to its tastes. The main theme of that entire book is how dangerous it is to play haphazardly with genetic modifications. It critiques it! Heavily!

The Jurassic Park scientists do everything that had been done to Chuuya and Verlaine. Those dinosaurs are not dinosaurs at all. They are amalgamations of DNA, organs and limbs. Several different species fused together into an entirely new form of life with no native habitat and no place in the food chain. The point of that book is that these animals were set up to be violent. They were set up for failure, they had nothing. They could do nothing else but occupy the island they were born in. It isn't their fault. They are an invasive species. They will always be an invasive species. They don't belong anywhere. I would even say that realistically even if they survive, the mismatched instincts of a million different creatures from different climates and habitats (from both prey and predator) will make it virtually impossible to sustain a population. They would fade into extinction.

Jurassic Park is a criticism and warning against genetic modifications. It blames the human's death and misery squarely on the humans and not the raptors. All the chaos is a product of the scientists’ reckless actions. It presents the desire to alter life for science as inherently flawed and the creations as unfortunate victims that now live an difficult life.

It is one big red neon sign saying “Don't do this! This is stupid!”. This is important because, alongside Doc’s shameless attitude about life, he represents how none of The Flags prosecute Chuuya for the things he had to do to survive. Like the creatures on the island Chuuya was taken and altered into something he doesn't understand. He was changed into something that for which there is no belonging, no understanding and no sense of security. He has to make peace with the complicated and somewhat artifical nature his existence.

Chuuya has been perpetually cornered, and he has had to act out to survive. The Flags don't care. They don't care when he threatens Iceman. They don't care when he threatens Pianoman. They don't care when he curses them out and blatantly rejects their kindness. They forgive it. Once the weapons are lowered and the danger has passed it's like nothing happened. Iceman is especially guilty of this, forgiving the scar he earned and working the hardest to find Chuuya proof of his humanity.

Doc represents the true and unconditional acceptance that comes with family. What is just as interesting is that Chuuya was starting to pick up this habit. When Doc admits to thinking about poisoning him, Chuuya lets it go. This is something that had the potential to be awful for him. It is another instance where his body is being fucked with without his consent or awareness. Doc could have earned a punch for it (he would have deserved it too) but Chuuya lets it go almost immediately.

That is what Doc represents. His death represents Verlaine taking away that path to acceptance for Chuuya (FYI i do think Chuuya could gain these ideals again later I'm talking about in Stormbringer in isolation). He is forcing Chuuya to choose between Light or Dark. Humanity or Inhumanity. When Chuuya could just coast the line between them comfortably the way Doc does. He could and up until the events of Stormbringer he had been struggling to do just that. He was attempting to define his existence on his own. It was his own private journey, one that had all the potential to end in peace. Verlaine took that away but why?

This acceptance is also vulnerable. It can shatter in a moment and it isn't an offensive thing, it can't ever fight back. The feeling of belonging is the weakest to emotional trials. You can't use a sense of belonging as a weapon, it won't protect you, it is what needs protecting. As a concept, acceptance is something that has to be managed and fed. It can be strong but it can only ever be defensive.

Doc couldn't defend himself against Verlaine. Albatross had wanted Chuuya to feel acceptance and with his last efforts he gave Chuuya his prized possessions. He not only dies thinking Doc is alive, he dies thinking Chuuya will be fine. He dies thinking that this is a wound that could heal, that Chuuya could move past this. He doesn't know what a life changing event this would be. He had no idea Chuuya was losing sight of his humanity and his sense of self.

Like before, what Verlaine takes from Chuuya he has taken from himself. What Chuuya loses, Verlaine loses by extension. Verlaine also loses his only chance at acceptance. Chuuya won't ever want acceptance from Verlaine, or ever accept Verlaine, after that incident. The possibility of healthy and healing connection for the two of them dies with Doc. This has severed their connection entirely (...for now?).

Pianoman and Iceman don't have abilities. Pianoman at least I have a possibility for who it could be. They were a lot harder to research for because I reverse engineered it by looking for books about quicksand and dinosaurs. I found Lippmann so easily, I just googled him and didn't put “bsd” at the end. Also idc that they dont have abilities Ranpo doesnt have an ability and he's based on an author.

For Pianoman I think the inspiration might have been the poem Piano by D.H. Lawrence. In this poem the writer describes coming across a singer and a pianist. He says they sound lovely but then he writes his reaction with a panicked tone. He calls the song insidious as it brings him back so clearly to his childhood. This line specifically stands out to me: “the heart of me weeps to belong”. At the end of the poem the author breaks into tears because the brilliant joy of his childhood is something he might never feel again.

The main reason why I think this might be Pianoman's influence is because he is the one that offers that picture to Chuuya. The myriad of emotions felt in that poem, Chuuya feels all at once. A reminder that he once belonged and a question if he ever will again.

Iceman's influence is likely the 1946 play The Iceman Cometh by Eugene O’Neill. This is where it gets really sad.

In this play a group of drunk men gather in a saloon. Each person is tormented by some tragedy in their lives. They all hoped and wished only to lose something important. There is an air of helplessness in response to their reality. The men suffer through disillusionment. They offer themselves unattainable hope to give their misery a purpose.

Soon, however, a man named Theodore “Hickey” Hickman appears and joyfully announces he is no longer drinking. He encourages others to do the same. Over the course of the play Hickey becomes more insistent and more desperate for them to follow his advice. He wants to take away their disillusionment but is warned that doing so would end in their deaths. He later confesses to the murder of his wife. He claims he did it to free her from disillusionment. He begs to be killed now that he no longer suffers from a false hope.

This ripples to another character who starts to confess their sins and accept reality. They too lose their will to live and ask for a way to repent. The main character, who loved the woman he screwed over, tells him to take his own life. It is implied the only fate that will find the men left in the saloon still stuck in delusion is death.

It is pessimistic and eerily similar to descriptions of The Flags and their hangout spot. This play might be the biggest inspiration for the short period of time where they were alive. It kinda hurts to think Asagiri gave them that bar with this story in mind. That it was only there to serve as a fleeting oasis that could do nothing more than lead them through escapism and to their death.

The point of that story is that death comes for them all regardless of any detachment from reality. The character Hickey is The Iceman and representative of death. He encourages people to chase their unattainable dreams in the hope that failure will force them to face reality.

Iceman, the character, also represents death. He represents failure and a little bit of disillusionment. Don't get me wrong I love him but he acts like the Iceman in the play (as in the role in the story). He was there, attempting to stop the sheep, before the sheep betrayed Chuuya. He was there the second time Chuuya lost a group of people. He is the only one that didn't want to celebrate Chuuya's one year anniversary. He is a sort of reminder that The Flags would have died. If not then then it would have happened any other number of ways. Currently as I'm writing this, only chapter 113 has been released, the Port Mafia is fucked. Most of their members, sans Chuuya, are vampires. Mori has resorted to asking for spare agency members like a neighbor asks for a cup of sugar. Even if The Flags did survive they weren't going to reach Hitotsu's age.

It also makes sense why Iceman would be able to detect abilities. Hickey was keenly aware of every person's main conflict. In BSD a character's ability is always representative of their main conflict.

What does it mean when Verlaine kills Iceman?

The Iceman Cometh is a harsh critique of holding onto hope for the sake of avoidance. It points out the futility of it and personifies death to be an insistent reminder of their failures. Iceman represents the risk of connection. The risk of getting to know someone, like Iceman, is intimidating at first. It can be very hard to trust a situation that leaves you incredibly vulnerable but doing so can be more than worth it. Iceman doesn't try to be appealing. He is standoffish and imposing but secretly he was working the hardest to prove to Chuuya he was human. True acceptance requires understanding the risk of rejection, betrayal and manipulation. It could happen, there's no way around it and you just have to accept it. In order for the bond to be genuine there has to be trust.

Just like before Chuuya was showing early signs of learning from these positive examples. Of course he's the most hostile towards Iceman, he has been betrayed once and abhors the idea of it happening again. Iceman is the least friendly and outwardly kind. It's hard to put trust into a person like that. Then The Flags all aim their weapons at him and for a moment it looks like Chuuya really thinks they're going to betray him. They could. That scene really outlines a flaw in Chuuya's perfect jewel of violence. It would be understandable for him to walk away from their friendship because of what they are capable of. He doesn't. He stays and he trusts they won't hurt him. He trusts Pianoman's word and he is beyond rewarded for it.

I want to cry thinking about it but The Flags were the perfect formula for redemption. I don't know how Chuuya would have been different if he had spent even a few more years with them. With just one year he was already making so much progress. He could have been so happy. God, when Verlaine intends to take humanity away he really doesn't half ass it.

When Version kills Iceman it is representative of him taking that risk away. There's no rejection, betrayal or manipulation to be worried about if no one is given the chance. Out of everyone Verlaine lives with the most disillusionment. He tells himself countless lies and polite fictions to deal with the tragedy of his reality. When they all shatter, the way they always would have, he can't escape facing it. He doesn't die but he does disappear into obscurity. Iceman's inclusion in the story is also foreshadowing the majority of the tragedy in Stormbringer. Verlaine, like Hickey, thought he had the solution and risked the lives of those he said he wanted to save. He loses everything in the end.

Iceman representing both death and the possibility of rejection is so clever because they aren't just risks, they are both inevitabilities. There will eventually be at least one person that cuts you deeply no matter what you do. There's no point in avoiding it, there's no point in pretending it can be avoided. Verlaine's pipe dream is that he can separate himself from his pain by rejecting his humanity. The pain is still there, it is still within him influencing his decisions and as the only explanation for his actions. He can't escape it. There is no escaping it. When that pipe dream fades away just like the characters in this play he is unable to face reality.

Funfact: O’Neill was the first American playwright to win a Nobel Peace Prize because his plays were so tragic and sad. Thanks Asagiri, did you google, “Saddest piece of literature ever”?

I will validate theorizing that The Flags are American or French by pointing out (if the fan wiki can be trusted, I don't own a japanese copy of stormbringer or read kanji) that The Flag's codenames were written with english pronunciation. Albatross did not call himself Ahoudori, which is the Japanese name for an albatross, he explicitly called himself Albatross. Every other character in The Flags has an English pronounced code name. Even Doc, it's just Doc. They chose english code names. I promise I looked for as wide of a range of authors as I could. My research will be flawed obviously bc I only fluent in two languages, and Japanese is not one of them. That being said i am very pleased with the authors I picked. I think they fit very well in the theme of the story and they all bring a new more interesting point to the story. If I'm wrong then at the very least these are fun and appropriate hcs.

I cannot overstate how excellently this first chapter is crafted. It sets up the main themes so perfectly. It foreshadows so much of the misery to come. After reading some of (what I think might be) the source material, this chapter is such a wonderful response to the points and questions presented by those authors. It is so hard to properly mix the themes, points and morals of several books, poems and plays in a way that isn’t reductive. It is so hard not to invalidate or butcher the meaning behind that piece of art when you attempt to add to it. It is even more difficult to expand on those themes, to connect them, do something original, do something impactful and then be entertaining. It’s just such beautiful writing.

I love that the world that surrounds the characters echoes their actions and morals through hidden symbolism. It really adds to the theme of the complicated feelings surrounding a predetermined life.

Side Note! I think it's kinda silly that for most of these they're all very sad and Doc's is just dinosaurs. Obviously there's more to it but dinosaurs! I love that.

The symbolism of Adam, Chuuya’s gate and Verlaine’s ability all get more explored in other chapters. I won’t be analyzing them now as they don’t do much in the first chapter other than be introduced. I’ll be analyzing them separately when I analyze each individual chapter of this book and then probably a collective essay on the work as a whole. If you want to be notified when I post you can just follow me on Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter (or X) and Tumblr under the same username.

Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoyed my analysis

Tl;Dr:

A general theme in the literary devices of disillusionment used to avoid dealing with hard situations

Albatross' is probably based off of Charlies Baudelaire

Doc is probably based off of Micheal Crichton M.D.

Lippmann is probably based off of Walter Lippmann

Iceman is probably based off of Eugene O'Neille

Piano Man might be based off of D.H. Lawrence (I'm not sure abt that one tbh. Least confident in that one. Paul Verlaine also has a poem abt a piano but it's not related in anyway thematically so 🤷‍♂️)

The Flags were always going to die thats kinda the point. With the refrence to The Ice Man Cometh it's clear that because these characters had no goals or dreams outside the Port Mafie they would die in the Port Mafia. This kind of works as sort of cautionary tale for Chuuya

The Flags all each represent a key component that could have led to Chuuya healing from his trauma and moving on. He was actually well on track. He had made great progress

When Verlaine killed The Flags he symbolically took all those key components away from both himself and Chuuya. Keeping them BOTH from moving on and keeping them both in disillusionment

Yosano and Chuuya are foils. The ADA gives Yosano autonomy (Butterfly) and the PM dehumanizes Chuuya (Gem).

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