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#Kobe destinations
hasanabihead · 1 year
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Watch "RIDING THE JAPANESE BULLET TRAIN w CDawgVA | Hasanabi Vlogs Ep 1" on YouTube
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The vlog is up!!!
Happy himbo
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adventure-alex · 9 months
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🌟🌆 Discover the Vibrant Wonders of Kobe, Japan! 🌆🌟
📸 Join us on an unforgettable journey through the breathtaking city of Kobe! 🌸 Immerse yourself in a fusion of rich culture, tantalizing flavors, and awe-inspiring sights that will leave you in awe. 🎉 Here are 10 incredible things to do in Kobe that will make your visit truly unforgettable! 🌟
1️⃣ Indulge in the Beauty of Kobe Harbor: 🌊 Immerse yourself in the mesmerizing coastal charm, where mountains meet the sparkling bay. Experience the magic of Harborland, a vibrant shopping district that offers endless delights for all.
2️⃣ Dive into the Enchanting World of Chinatown: 🏮 Explore the vibrant streets of Nankinmachi, Kobe's bustling Chinatown. Indulge your taste buds with delectable Chinese cuisine while marveling at the stunning architecture and lively atmosphere.
3️⃣ Conquer Mt. Rokko: ⛰️ Embark on an exhilarating hike up Mt. Rokko and witness panoramic views that will take your breath away. Capture the stunning sunset and immerse yourself in nature's embrace.
4️⃣ Seek Serenity at Herb Mountain: 🌿 Embark on a magical journey through the lush greenery of Herb Mountain, where fragrant herbs and cascading waterfalls await. Let the serene beauty rejuvenate your spirit.
5️⃣ Discover the Architectural Marvel of Weathercock House: 🏰 Marvel at the bold beauty of Weathercock House, a striking red-brick residence nestled in Kitano. Step into a bygone era and immerse yourself in its elegant charm.
6️⃣ Unleash Your Spiritual Side at Ikuta Shrine: ⛩️ Visit Ikuta Shrine, one of Japan's oldest Shinto shrines, and experience its timeless spiritual aura. Feel a sense of tranquility as you wander through its sacred grounds.
7️⃣ Immerse Yourself in Art at Hyogo Prefectural Museum: 🖼️ Let the creativity of Hyogo Prefectural Museum of Art captivate your senses. Delve into a world of masterpieces and immerse yourself in the vibrant art scene of Kobe.
8️⃣ Pay Tribute at Kobe Earthquake Memorial Park: 🕊️ Reflect on the resilience of the city at Kobe Earthquake Memorial Park. Witness the lasting impact of the Great Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake and pay homage to its memory.
9️⃣ Savor the Legendary Kobe Beef: 🥩 Indulge in the world-renowned Kobe beef, renowned for its exquisite tenderness and marbling. Treat your taste buds to a culinary adventure like no other.
🔟 Marvel at the Akashi Kaikyo Bridge: 🌉 Stand in awe before the engineering marvel of the Akashi Kaikyo Bridge, the world's longest suspension bridge. Capture unforgettable moments against the backdrop of this iconic structure.
🌟 Unleash the Explorer Within! 🌟
Don't miss out on the captivating wonders that await you in Kobe! 🌸✨ Embrace the vibrant culture, immerse yourself in breathtaking landscapes, and create memories that will last a lifetime. 📸 Plan your adventure to Kobe today and prepare for an extraordinary journey unlike any other! 🌆✈️
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ross-hori · 10 months
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Streets in Kobe can be somewhat wide.
Partly designed that way as a lesson from the Great Hanshin Earthquake. It gives space for buildings to fall and people to seek shelter.
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champio88 · 1 year
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gatual · 2 years
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hello bom! where do you want to travel to in the future? :D
hi kobe !!! oh well i would like to go to sOOOOOOOOOOOOOO many places its crazy,,,, some countries i can think of right now are : Mexico, South Korea, Colombia, Japan, Italy, Australia, Puerto Rico, etc (+countries where my online friends are so we can meet :3)
what's 1 thing u want to know abt me 
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yusakututhiya · 1 year
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Things to expect in Kobe & Osaka
More here ⬇️
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narumi-gens · 8 months
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Traditional Values
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yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader
summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional? 
warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters
notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.
words: 5.9k
minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact
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The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional. 
Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside. 
And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife. 
But you know that traditional really just means boring. 
Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.
Specifically, your marriage to Kita. 
After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.
While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child. 
And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options. 
There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west. 
But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person. 
And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed. 
He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.
As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'
Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza. 
By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.
Kita is dull. 
It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening. 
‘You’re so boring.’
It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.
‘You’re so boring.’
It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.
‘You’re so boring.’
You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?
‘You’re so boring.’
He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense. 
“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them. 
Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.
Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.
But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.
‘You’re so boring.’
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Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows. 
It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste. 
Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes. 
Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life. 
You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively. 
So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it. 
With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads. 
Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades. 
Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts. 
Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza. 
If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with. 
It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers. 
But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed. 
Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants. 
You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.
When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.
“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff. 
Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.
You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look. 
For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.
However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call. 
So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible. 
“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya. 
He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier. 
Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.
Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body. 
The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy. 
“Enough.” 
Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt. 
He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space. 
The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy. 
As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common. 
But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.
You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again. 
You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter. 
The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter. 
Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out. 
“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep. 
He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess. 
Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point. 
But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well. 
“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show. 
You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response. 
However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.
Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees. 
You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten. 
The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place. 
With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.
He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.
With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea. 
“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”
You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.
“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.
“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.
You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.
“Osamu.” 
The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more. 
The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you. 
For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste. 
Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger. 
The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you. 
You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.
“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.” 
It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.
He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.
“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”
He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.
“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.
“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states. 
Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.
“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much. 
And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors. 
This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita. 
“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards. 
“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name. 
The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.
“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.
“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”
“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin. 
“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles. 
His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely. 
If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.
Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.
His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.
You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs. 
Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.
“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”
Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively. 
Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh. 
When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness. 
“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”
His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. 
“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”
Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.
“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled. 
Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun. 
There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you. 
He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum. 
His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him. 
“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”
You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.
“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”
The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know. 
“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”
He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.
“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him. 
However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like. 
“Did ya use yer mouth on him?” 
It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give. 
“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees. 
But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips. 
“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.  
“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.
“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before. 
“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.  
You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface. 
The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously. 
It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.
But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze. 
Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.
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heich0e · 1 year
Text
sometimes, when the stars align and the timing is right, your day off coincides with the day shinsuke is making a trip into town on a delivery run.
he's up at dawn, just like he always is. a rustle on the futon beside you as he sits himself upright. a gentle kiss upon your brow before he slips out from under the blankets. but this time, unlike most mornings when he's heading out to tend the paddies and leaves you there to sleep a little longer before you have to wake to start your day, you rise with him.
side by side in the kitchen you work in quiet cooperation, making breakfast and packing lunches, humming along to the radio playing quietly in the corner between morning news broadcasts and weather reports.
sunny skies all the way to osaka this morning, but a light chill in the air. you smile as you snap the lid on a little pink lunch box. perfect.
once everything precious has been loaded into shin's beloved truck, tucked and buckled in and secure, you head off on the road. the radio in the truck has been acting up lately, and he's gonna get samu to take a look at it when you get to osaka, so for now you listen to the strange collection of cassette tapes in the glove compartment. some were grandma yumie's hand-me-downs, some you'd picked up at charity shops, but the nostalgic songs that crackle out from the speakers are somehow exactly the right soundtrack for your little day on the road, and you find yourself grateful for them.
there's a few stops in kobe kita has to make along the way, slipping quietly from the driver's seat and heading to the back of the truck. you turn in your seat, eyes scanning over the backseat of the truck with a soft smile, glancing up and watching through the back window as shinsuke hauls heavy bags of rice out of the truck bed and totes them to their destinations, hefted over his shoulder. handshakes and bows exchanged with shop owners and chefs, you're back on the road again.
it takes a little longer to get to osaka than it normally would thanks to the stops you make, but you enjoy every minute of it.
"we're here," shinsuke says, pointing out a sign as he flicks the turn indicator to signal his intention to turn into a parking lot. you nod, an excited flutter in your tummy.
you turn yourself around in your seat, squirming slightly as you slip your shoulders out from the safety of your seatbelt, and the man beside you takes one hand off the wheel to place it gently on your back to keep you steady.
you reach into the backseat of the car, fingertips grazing a warm rosy cheek.
a little pair of chestnut brown eyes framed by long, wispy eyelashes flutter open and peer up at you.
"hi gorgeous," you smile, and the little girl wiggles in her car seat, leaning her into the touch of your hand as she rouses from her slumber. "good morning."
"slept the whole way here," shinsuke chuckles, shifting the truck into park once he's pulled into a safe space in the lot.
"did i miss uncle samu?" your daughter murmurs sadly, two little fists rubbing at her sleepy eyes, a pout on her perfect lips.
"no, we're going to see him later," you smile, brushing the silvery strands of her hair back from her face.
"papa didn't bring him his rice yet?" she asks, eyes wide and shimmering with renewed hope.
"nope," the aforementioned papa says from the driver's seat. "couldn't do that without my best delivery helper."
your daughter smiles from the backseat, an excited rush of pink flooding her cheeks. she seems to pause a little, pushing herself up in her carseat and craning to try and peek out the window to get a glimpse of her unfamiliar surroundings.
"where are we?" she asks, unable to ascertain anything she recognizes.
"ya really don't know?" shinsuke asks, feigning shock (which you can tell, but the four year old in front of you cannot.)
"no papa! i don't!"
shinsuke bites back a little grin, and you shoot him a look.
"don't tease," you whisper quietly, fondly, under your breath. he looks at you with eyes full of affection and nods, slipping out from the drivers seat.
shinsuke opens up your daughter's door and helps unstrap her from her carseat, pulling her up into his arms. you slide out from your own seat at the same time, the midday osaka sunshine warm, but with that little chill the forecast had called for. you'd packed everyone a sweater in preparation.
"d'you know what that says?" shinsuke asks your daughter, pointing to the sign on the other side of the parking lot.
you watch as she follows his gaze and squints at the kanji on the sign. she's only four, but there are some words she's learned to read.
"no," she says glumly after a moment, unable to figure it out.
"think about it," shin urges her, bouncing her encouragingly in his arm as he holds her against his hip. "what book are ya always askin' papa to read at bedtime?"
your daughter racks her brain for a moment, and then something clicks.
she places one little hand on either of shinsuke's cheeks, pressing her nose right to her father's.
"zoo," she breathes, so thrilled she can barely speak.
"zoo," shinsuke confirms proudly.
yumie squirms in her father's arms, twisting in his hold to face you.
"it's zoo, mama!" she says excitedly, her warm eyes sparkling.
"sure is, baby," you agree with a smile.
shinsuke sets yumie down on her own two feet to help you unpack the car. you help your daughter into her cardigan while she shifts her weight eagerly from foot to little foot, and then fasten a sunhat over her pig-tailed head to protect her from the midday rays.
the last car door slams behind you, and you turn where you're crouched on the ground to see shinsuke hiking a canvas tote bag (your handmade lunches held within) over his shoulder.
"ready to go?" he asks you, and you nod.
yumie weasels her way between the two of you as you rise up to your feet. she slips one little hand into yours and one into shinsuke's, gripping your fingers tight.
"mama... do you think they have any foxes in there?" yumie asks you hopefully as your little family crosses the parking lot towards the entrance.
you glance over at your husband, and see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his face turned up into the sun as he smiles.
"yeah baby, i'm sure they do."
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kobedivision · 3 months
Text
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@saitama-division <3
— Kobe Division —
It was Christmas and night had fallen upon the city of Kobe, Ren Nakashima was in Kobe’s concert hall preparing for a special concert. He had been planning this for a while now, months actually and now it was finally time to see if all that preparation payed off, the musician took in a deep breath to calm himself, he was slightly nervous, despite having done dozens of concerts before, this one was different, after all, there was someone who he desperately wanted to impress.
A knock on the door had snapped the man out of his thoughts as he looked through the mirror to see Kaiji walk in, smirking. “Heyyy loverboy, everything is almost set, how you feeling?” The crossdresser walked over to him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “Yikes, you’re tense.” Kaiji used two fingers to tilt Ren’s head to look at him. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine, dude, you’re gonna put on the best performance like you usually do and sweep your Angel off her feet.”
Ren smiled at Kaiji and nodded. “You’re right Kaiji, honestly, I’m kinda excited now, I can only imagine the kind of expression she’ll make when I surprise her. I bet it’ll be so cute.” The rockstar could feel his face heat up at the thought of his Darling’s adorable face watching him in awe and admiration, Kaiji snickered and rolled his eyes, grinning. “Well, that didn’t take long.” The white haired male took out his phone when he heard a ping signifying that he had received a message, he smirked and looked back at Ren with shining eyes.
“It’s showtime, Vox.”
— Later —
“Lola, what the hell are we doing all the way out here?”
Kureha could only stare at her best friend in confusion and annoyance as the model had held her by the wrist and all but dragging her to wherever the hell the blonde was going. Lola was checking her phone every few moments before pulling her in another direction despite Kureha’s protests and demands for an explanation, when Lola said that they were going out, the artist had thought they would visit Sayaka, not drive all the way to Kobe Division.
“I swear, if you dragged me all the way here to go to some nightclub-“
“Kureha, I promise you’re gonna love it, just please shut up for a moment!”
The goth scowled at her blonde friend but nonetheless remained slightly until the two of them finally reached their destination, a concert hall. Kureha looked up at the building in confusion before turning her gaze to a very excited Lola, “…What is this.” It sounded more like a demand than a question and before the model could answer, the door to the concert hall opened to reveal Max, he stared at the two girls blankly before opening the door wider so that they could head in, though Max had ushered Kureha towards a different path while he told Lola where to go making the artist all the more confused and a tad wary.
Kureha didn’t know what to think as she followed Max down a dark hallway other than ‘isn’t this usually how people get murdered?’ However, it seemed her suspicious were proven incorrect as she soon found herself on stage…
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…Which was completely covered in blue roses and had butterflies hanging from the ceiling, the gothic artist was in complete shock as she stared at the whole scenery in awe before slowly becoming aware of her surroundings.
“Yoooohoooo! Sweetheart!”
Kureha snapped her head towards the audience in surprise, which only consisted Lola, Kaiji, and two other people, a teenage boy with raven hair and a young girl with red eyes. They were all sitting in the front row, Lola was grinning widely while holding her phone, recording the bluenette’s reaction, Kaiji was next to her with amusement written all over his face which would turn into fondness whenever he turned his gaze to Lola while the two were watching with excitement on their faces.
“W-what…what the hell is this…”
“Why, it’s your birthday present, Angel.”
Kureha’s eyes widen as she snapped her head towards the sound of the voice and was met face to face with Vox himself. The ravenette smirked down at her but there was a gentle fondness in his eyes, he held out a hand to her, not at all deterred by the way Kureha merely stared at him, gaping like a fish out of water. “Please Angel, allow me to deliver my present to you, I wish to give you a night you will never forget.” It was then that Kureha finally noticed the bracelet he was holding out to her, it had angel wings and a gem heart at the middle, Kureha looked at Ren, then the bracelet, then back at Ren and did this a few more times before shyly taking the bracelet and slipping it on her wrist. It was a perfect fit.
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Ren gently took her hand and led her towards the middle of the stage and Kureha followed, almost in a trance, there sat a silver and white throne almost inviting her to sit, which she did. Kureha face erupted in a bright red blush as Ren took her hand once more (the one that had the bracelet) and gave it a tender kiss, smiling and winked at her which cause the artist’s face to flush more. Letting her go, the musician took out his microphone. “My Angel, my darling, I wish you a very happy birthday and merry Christmas.” With that, he signaled for the band to start playing.
I close my eyes, the touch of your fingers
Through monochrome the memory lingers
Into your hands i'm resting the pain inside of me
You and me, I see
A dream of blind destiny
And it's into your arms I'm melting
And it's the first time I've ever felt like this
You are the hand that's dealt me
The tempter sealing my fate
With a kiss
And in a flash, the stars align
I search beyond the words, wanting a sign
But lost inside your eyes
Lies become clearer to see
They tell a different story
So take the reins and don't let go
I want this pain to scar deep
For I know all our past receives healing
With memories concealing
We cry to the light of the moon
This night's become a wonderful haven
And in my it's what I’ve craven
Addicted to this sea
I’ve even lost the need to breathe
And its out of my life your fading
And its the warmth of your arms I still desire
Stuck all alone, I'm praying
To never share my one kiss with a liar
And in the dark I'm left alone
My heart inside is losing every tone
And spotting all your lies wise of this path to be free
I'm writing a new story
I fall asleep to tainted I know that there is more
To all that seems wanting all my desires
To never retire i live by the night of the moon
And its straight to the sky I'm flying
And its the knowledge that you will not be there struggling through
I'm trying to find my own escape out this snare
And in a flash, the stars align
I search beyond the words, wanting a sign
But lost inside your eyes
Lies become clearer to see
They tell a different story
So take the reins and don't let go
I want this pain to scar deep, for I know
In spite of every sign crying this night to be true
The sun will rise out you
So here's another kiss
To tainted bliss
A toast to empty promise
With virtue pretending love as our ending
We fall by the light of the moon
Happy Birthday Kureha! 💙
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scamuel-likely · 7 months
Text
Week 3 of writing workshop with @bettsfic & @books
Stories of a place:
The place I wrote about was Rokkō Island in Japan, and the surrounding area where I used to live.
I only used the common facts that anyone could find out.
1. The Rokkō Liner is an automated tram that transports people from the mainland to the manmade Rokkō Island.
2. Kobe was hit by a devastating earthquake in 1995.
3. Rokkō Island was made by taking the top off nearby mountains and compressing them to form new land in the ocean.
Tangled Up In Blue:
The tram snakes its way across a thin stretch of vibrant water, a thousand crystalline waves dance far below its metallic carapace. Inside, it carries precious cargo. The kind of cargo that thrums with the rush of blood and the spark of life, the kind that reads the morning paper and taps away at their cellphones. The tram is a noble beast, and it carries its task of transport out with no direction, no driver at its helm. It’s an entirely automated system, ferrying travellers from the densely packed mainland Sumiyoshi to the equally dense Rokkō Island. A commuter tram for many, as Rokkō Island houses few attractions and the heavy boom and bustle of harbours echo from its shores. This island is a freak of nature. It has been stitched together by the hands of mankind, mountains ripped from the earth and shoved into an orderly rectangular form. A picture perfect piece of the modern industrial world.
The tram, the Rokkō Liner, announces its destination to the passengers in singsong Japanese and again in a similarly musical yet somewhat mechanically clumsy English. Many, many foreigners, live and work on the island. Stacked into towerblocks and gated housing complexes, these expats make their livings in finance, shipping and translation. The early dawn illuminates a sea of suits, Japanese and foreign salarymen shuffling to work. Their faces are lined with stress and their company-issued tie clips shine in the newborn sunlight. One of them trips and falls, his briefcase letting loose a deluge of papers onto the pristine pavement below. He looks up at the sky, a tangle of telephone and electrical wires crisscrossing from granite apartment to granite apartment, and beyond that a vibrant cloudless blue. His suit is scuffed and he’s grazed his palm, but no one stops to help him up. So he’s left to shake himself off and pick himself up, as his spreadsheets and quarterly reports are pulled away by the soft morning breeze. He sighs and that too is snatched away by the wind. His boss isn’t gonna like this one bit.
His boss, the one who requested those quarterly reports to be on his desk by nine am at the latest, is sitting on the Liner reviewing a book his wife recommended to him, on Goodreads. He’s giving the thing, an American book called All The Pretty Horses, five stars. He’d sat down to read it one evening, with a glass of port in one hand and a cigarette in the other. After three refills of port and eleven more cigarettes he was done and, despite his insistence to the contrary, there were tears in his eyes. And tears freely flowed again when he conversed with his wife about the book over breakfast. Something about the book’s message of freedom and hope was inspiring, and made him hark back to the days of his youth. He was once a young revolutionary student who campaigned to end uniforms and for the school to stop getting funding from the nearby American airbase. He used to be a free spirit, used to wear a beret to school and sport Groucho Marx style glasses. Used to quote Karl Marx to teachers and Keats to fellow students. Used to organise film festivals, write in the local newspaper and mitigate street showdowns between young Yakuza members. And then he’d grown up. Life had caught up to him, forced him into a suit and pushed him through the sliding doors of a faceless office building. And he’d lost the joy in his life, crushed by timesheets and shipping mandates.
The review he was writing, on his wife’s account, was full of beautiful prose and cascading metaphors. He unleashed his creative streak, the one the grindstone of society had oppressed, and crafted an excellent essay-like review of McCarthy’s book. While writing this, his mind filled with such raw emotion, he let loose just one more tear. The teenager sitting across from him pretended not to notice him wipe it away with his shirtsleeve, which had been neatly ironed the day before by his wife.
The boss’s wife, an American-Japanese woman who’d grown up in Kobe, had first discovered Cormac McCarthy in a quaint little bookstore tucked away in the shadow of the Kobe Tower. The red light spilling from the tower reflected on the window display, dousing all its contents with an eerie blood-red glow. She’d taken shelter in there, as it was raining something awful and the karaoke bar she’d been at had closed early due to a leak in the roof. It was late at night, she was quite tipsy and in no mood for the noise and light of a train station, so she tapped on the window of this bookstore. It was closed, but light was spilling from a beaded curtain partitioning the shop from its backroom and her hurried and frantic tapping soon altered the owner. He was a man around her age, his eyes were ringed with the telltale dark circles of the sleepless. He wiped a stray eyelash away from his eye with one slender hand as the other fumbled for the door key. She wondered, somewhat drunkenly, if he was single.
He let her in, gave her a cup of green tea, and asked her, in excellent English, “What the hell are you doing dancing around in the street during a typhoon?”
She admitted to being a little drunk, and he gave her a blanket and a book, telling her to rest while he finished up his work for the night.
“Then what?” She enquired, but he clearly hadn’t heard her, as he’d slipped through the beaded curtain into the shop and was busying himself with the shelves.
Having no real other option, she took a sip of the piping hot tea and blearily glanced at the book.
The cover was well-loved, the spine supple and the edges fraying. Emblazoned on its front were the words: No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy.
She took one more sip of tea, and began to read.
Eleven years and a long marriage later, she’d finally recommended the author to her husband. She knew he loved old Clint Eastwood films, and she knew something of his creative side, remembering him writing her elegant haikus when they’d just started dating. They’d been quite distant as of late, with her time mainly spent working from home and his in the office. She knew full well he didn’t do anything of substance, it was all delegation. His boss would tell him something, then he’d repeat it to his own employees, mimicking his boss’s angry demeanour best he could. The stress of his job had been making him snappish and standoffish, so she thought a literary diversion might be just what he needed. And she was right. He openly sobbed into his miso soup when they’d talked about the book at breakfast, the tears mixing with the broth and dissipating like rain into an ocean.
The ocean the tram was crossing was prone to violet outbursts. This was mainly due to the fact Japan sits in between four different tectonic plates, making it prone to earthquakes and tsunamis. One such earthquake had occurred in 1995 and had wreaked Kobe. Water had been forced out of the soil used to build Rokkō Island, causing pavements to crack open as water bubbled onto the surface. The rush of underground water brought with it geysers of sand that burst pavements, tearing down towering red construction cranes and shiny new bridges alike.
The bookseller remembers that earthquake well. His shop had been flooded by a burst sewage pipe, and his parent’s house had collapsed in on itself, a supernova of rubble and debris. He had wandered through the wreckage days after the quake, trying to find anything that remained. Quite a bit of the ground floor walls still remained, jaggedly and abruptly ending at around shoulder height, giving way to a sky still grey from debris dust. His parent’s fridge still stood, remarkably, dented as it was. A lone survivor of the now mostly-unrecognisable kitchen. He swung open its door to find a mush of foodstuffs, mulched up berries, squished meat, crushed pasta, eggshells, juice cartons spilling their contents onto the rubble-strewn cracked wooden floor below. A line of orange juice ran through a contour in the wood and pooled at his shoe. He glanced at his reflection in its vivid bring surface, a colour pop in this grey world, a world still shaking from the events of the past few days.
He looked just the same as he had on that rainy night in the bookstore, only now his hair was being eaten by wisps of silver and his shaded eyes were adorned by wire framed glasses, these two effects combining to make him seem scholarly and intellectual, though doing nothing to aid his never-ending quest for long term companionship. His parents, who had luckily been on holiday in Hokkaido when the quake had struck, had tried to set him with so many women in the past but nothing had ever stuck. He’d gone on a few dates with a girl in university but when her grandfather died she had to move back to Kanazawa. Their relationship slowly fizzled out after that, the fire of passion dying through increasingly rarer and briefer love letters and phone calls. Since then he hadn’t really had much luck with love, even going to a love hotel, just out of sheer desperation, only to find that sex was something he utterly didn’t understand, even when doing it. It was the human element that he fell for.
Take, for example, that woman he’d met when he was working late at the bookshop. Her tipsy little smile as she sipped her tea and opened No Country on her lap. Then the awe and raw excitement that flitted across her face as she read further and further. He had spoke a few more times to her that night, to refill her tea, to answer some basic questions about himself and to ask her where she lived so he could phone her a taxi. Her replies had all been witty and polite, and he’d etched them into his mind, despite her actual appearance fading into the obscurity of his memory, long since tarnished with taxes and neighbours and train times and the pressures of adulthood.
The teen on the tram didn’t want the pressures of adulthood. If adulthood made you cry on your morning commute, like she had seen that salaryman do just moments ago, she wanted no part of it. She was heading onto Rokkō Island to meet her girlfriend for early morning coffee. Her stomach was filled with a buzzing static that built and rose to her throat, making it hard to swallow. Not only had she called into school to tell them a family emergency had come up, which she had never done before, but she’d also slipped from her bedroom window and tiptoed to the train station in the waning night, which she’d also never done before. She was now sitting on the first train out to Rokkō Island, a doughnut in the shape of a lion in her hand. She bit into its adorable face, the soft sugary flesh splitting with the force of her teeth, spraying forth a tsunami of cream filling onto her hand. Another doughnut, this one a plump porcelain-like Hello Kitty face, with a jammy centre, sat in a paper bag on the seat next to her. It was for her girlfriend. The static in her stomach surged at the thought of that. She had a girlfriend. They’d met playing netball, it was a sweltering summers day and the tarmac had felt like lava when her palms had smacked down onto it after she had tripped trying to defend the net. After the ball had rushed through behind her, the girl that had scored, a very pretty girl with shoulder-length brown hair and sparkling eyes, had reached down and helped her up. She was so surprised that this girl, who was far better at sports and probably far more popular than she was, had helped her, instead of hugging a teammate or somesuch celebration. She was even more surprised when that girl cornered her by the changing rooms and gave her a tiny slip of Snoopy-branded notepaper. Etched on it in elegant gel pen was a set of digits. And a heart. They’d spoken over the phone a lot since then, and met for a few whirlwind dates when either school was competing. But now, now they were meeting up not in school hours, bunking to go to a boba & coffee place together. She felt so alive, like someone had lifted up her soul from her body and she was floating freely among the candyfloss clouds that hung in sparse bunches over the horizon. But there was a worry, a deep and suffocating one, that sat squarely in her chest and didn’t budge. It was the anger of doubt, of wondering if she was unnatural, of fearing her parents wouldn’t understand, of having to keep it all a secret. She finished the doughnut and wrung her hands together, her nails digging into her palms, making deep white marks that drowned out the static inside her.
“Miss, are you okay?”
It came from the salaryman. He’d put his phone down and was looking at her with deep concern through his thick-rimmed glasses.
“Yeah, yeah I’m alright.” She managed to stutter, her hands shooting apart and onto her lap.
“That doughnut for someone?” He, rather redundantly, pointed at the bag with the smiling Mr Doughnut mascot on it.
“Urm, yeah, it’s for a friend.” She said, mostly to the gum on the underside of the salaryman’s seat.
“Well I hope they enjoy it,” He smiled at her, a kindly tired smile, “do you read much poetry?”
The question hit her like a freight train. A salaryman asking a teenager about poetry? She was astonished.
“No, no I don’t really, sorry.” She spurted out.
He leaned forward on his knees and with an exclamation of ‘yoisho’ lifted himself out of his chair and motioned to see if he could sit down next to her. She nodded, like a frightened rabbit.
“Well you should,” he said, sitting down, “it can free one’s mind of all sorts of heavy burdens. Can I read you a haiku?”
She was strangely at ease with this stranger, and so mumbled, “Yes, you may”.
He cleaned his throat and read, from memory;
“Even with insects-
Some can sing
Some can’t
It’s an Issa poem,” he said to her, “ and I think it relates to you somewhat. You seem different to others your age. And that’s fine, I was different once. I was a communist! Or I thought I was at least. And look at me now, huh? Another cog in the machine.”
The machine of the tram ground slowly to a halt and the lilting voice of the automated announcer proclaimed they’d reached Rokkō Island. The few passengers flooded out from the train and made their way out of the station. Passengers going from Rokkō to the mainland queued in orderly lines at the side of the tram doors, waiting for everyone to exit before stepping on. It was an intricate and well-executed dance of etiquette and unspoken rules. The salaryman picked up his briefcase, loosened his tie a bit, and walked off towards the shining sliding doors of his office building. The teen half-walked, half-tripped her way to the coffee shop, her brain was alight with hope and happiness, and all the static washed away on the wind.
The wind had carried the man’s papers far far away and so now he sat in his puffy, uncomfortable swivel chair, awaiting his boss’s arrival with a glum look on his face. His cubicle neighbour and best friend, a man with dyed blonde hair and perfect teeth, was consoling him.
“At least he’ll give you saké, he does that with everyone he fires right?” The guy grinned, leaning over the cubicles.
“I’d rather keep my job than have a bottle of saké, if I’m honest.” His mate glumly replied.
“Well bossman isn’t even here yet, maybe he’s been chopped up by the Yakuza, or run over by a car or-“
And in walked their boss, his tie loose around his neck and an odd spring in his step. He smiled, yes, smiled at them as he passed. When the door of his office was shut, the two men looked at eachother, then looked around at the puzzled looks on the faces of every employee in the room.
“What the hell just happened?”
“I think you’re not getting fired. Or maybe we all are.”
Music began to drift from behind the boss’s door. American music. Rather old.
Tangled Up In Blue by Bob Dylan.
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The Dreamer Household
Spring, Year 1
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Darren finds solace in a spontaneous decision. Eager for a change of scenery, he hops on his bike, embarking on a leisurely ride around the neighborhood. The cool breeze rustles through his hair as he contemplates life's twists and turns. His destination? A scenic dog park in Bluewater Bay. There, amidst the vibrant greenery and cheerful pups, Darren and his faithful companion Kobe spend the late morning playing and training. Sometimes, a simple escape into the beauty of nature is all one needs to find clarity and peace. 🚴‍♂️🐶🌳
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yuzukahibiscus · 1 year
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Takarazuka opens 2023 with “MAYERLING”, a poignant love story between Top Star Yuzuka Rei playing as Crown Prince and the baroness
(Article taken in Kobe News 文章取自神戶新聞) (Chinese translation as below 中文翻譯如下)
Takarazuka Revue starts 2023 with the opening of Flower Troupe’s “MAYERLING”. The novel “MAYERLING”, written by Claude Anet tells a poignant love story between the 19th century Austria Crown Prince Rudolf and Baroness Mary. Shibata Yukihiro adapted this novel and made it a stage production in 1983. It’s been 30 years since it was performed in the Takarazuka Grand Theatre. Flower Troupe Top Star Yuzuka Rei plays the “classic archtype” Prince Highness Rudolf.
Yuzuka says, “Now, when I knew of doing this performance, I was surprised and excited.” “No matter if it’s portraying how people are attracted to another, not just the romantic but the realistic side of the characters; those numerous unforgettable, famous lines... Shibata-sensei’s script is really amazing”. Koyanagi Naoko responsible for refinement and direction of script also feels the same and comments “Shibata’s works are chic and of style”.
Yuzuka played Rudolf in “ELISABETH” in 2014. “(Rudolf) was someone whose life was already destined to happen a certain way”. But, behind the white military outfit and his inborn solemn image, “he shouldn’t be portrayed as how he was originally described. I’d think about how much more I should create for this role” and she continued spending these days of trial-and-error.
The latter half is a perfume-themed show “ENCHANTEMENT: A Luxurious Perfume”, which they will sing and dance to present the love and dream they can imagine from different scents.
Dancing in the scene wearing hat and suit with the vibes of her favourite musical star Fred Astaire, she comments “I love that the scene is stylish and I could feel a little playful with it.” On the other hand, the scene representing a barren earth sprouting in life “has a grand music. The choreography is difficult and there are a lot of movements that we’re always dancing till the end” that she looks forward to do her best in this scene.
2022 was the 100th anniversary of the establishment of Flower Troupe and for that she has spent fruitful days. She says with audacity, “I’ll dedicate my life to the stage in 2023 as well″.
The performances will begin on January 1 - 30 in Takarazuka Grand Theatre and in the Tokyo Takarazuka Theatre on February 18 - March 19.
寶塚的2023年由《梅耶林》開幕:描繪花組トップスター柚香光與男爵夫人的悲戀
寶塚歌劇以花組的《梅耶林》開啟2023 年。克勞德 · 艾勒的小說《梅耶林》講述了 19 世紀奧地利皇太子魯道夫與瑪麗男爵夫人的淒美愛情故事,柴田侑宏於1983年把此作舞台化。上次在寶塚大劇場上演至今已有30年。花組トップスター柚香光飾演二枚目的王子殿下魯道夫。
柚香說到:「如今,得悉要出演此作品讓我很驚喜,同時會感到興奮。」「不論是描繪人與人之間如何吸引對方、帶有浪漫和現實一面的人物、難忘的各種名台詞,柴田先生的台本真是很優秀啊」。負責潤色、導演的小柳奈穂子也有同感,留言說到柴田老師的「作品是很別緻」。
柚香光在2014年的《伊莉莎白》飾演過魯道夫。「他是一個已經給命運安排的人」。但是白色軍裝背後,與生俱來的莊嚴感以外,「我認為魯道夫不應該是給既定的印象來飾演的」因而繼續在試行錯誤的日子裡,研究如何演繹魯道夫。
後半的秀是以香水的主題《ENCHANTEMENT—華麗之香水—》,以歌與舞表現各種香氣所聯想的愛與夢。
穿著最愛的音樂劇明星弗雷德 · 阿斯泰爾風格的帽子和西裝跳舞的場面「可以帶著一點調皮心跳舞,非常喜歡這個很時尚的場面」。另一方面,說到荒廢的地球重新孕育著新生命的那場,「音樂很壯大。編舞很難,運動量很大,一直跳到最後的感覺」,從今開始也希望努力面對這場。
2022年是花組成立100週年,為此在舞台上表演過了充實的日子。她強而有力的說:「2023年也會把生命奉獻給舞台的。」
公演將於1月1日至30日在寶塚大劇場和2月18日至3月19日在東京寶塚劇場表演。
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adventure-alex · 8 months
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Beautiful view of Kobe, Japan - short hike, Nunobiki Waterfalls
🌸🏞️ Step into a Serene Wonderland 🏞️🌸
Join us on an enchanting journey through Kobe, Japan, where we'll embark on a short hike to experience the breathtaking beauty of Nunobiki Waterfalls in glorious 4K! 🎥✨
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Nunobiki Falls, nestled near downtown Kobe, holds a special place in Japanese literature and art, its allure likened to that of mythical "divine falls." 🌊🍃 Together with Kegon Falls and Nachi Falls, Nunobiki stands tall as a true wonder of nature, captivating hearts across generations.
As we wander through this natural oasis, we're greeted by the symphony of four distinct waterfalls—Ontaki, Mentaki, Tsutsumigadaki, and Meotodaki. Each one bestows a unique charm upon the landscape, creating a picturesque scene that feels straight out of a fairytale! 🌈🍂
Our journey begins with a gentle hike, weaving through lush greenery and winding trails that lead us closer to the cascading waterfalls. 🚶‍♂️🍃 The anticipation builds with every step, and soon, we're rewarded with a view so stunning that words can hardly do it justice.
Prepare to be mesmerized by the awe-inspiring beauty as we capture the cascading water in magnificent 4K resolution! 🎥💧 The shimmering droplets dance in the sunlight, painting a magical picture that leaves us in awe of Mother Nature's artistry.
The sound of rushing water blends with the serene surroundings, offering a moment of tranquility that calms our souls and rejuvenates our spirits. 🎶💕 It's as if time slows down, allowing us to savor every precious second of this enchanting experience.
As we stand before the majestic Nunobiki Falls, we can't help but feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for being part of this natural wonder. 🙏✨ The significance of these falls in Japanese culture only deepens our appreciation, knowing that we're witnessing a piece of history and tradition.
So, fellow adventurers, get ready to be immersed in the beauty of Kobe, Japan, and the magnificent Nunobiki Waterfalls. 🌸🏞️ Let the serene sounds, vibrant colors, and captivating views transport you to a realm of pure magic!
Come with us on this unforgettable journey, as we capture the essence of Nunobiki Falls in all its 4K glory—get ready to fall in love with this divine slice of paradise! 🌊💖 Don't forget to like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell to join us on more delightful adventures in the land of the rising sun! Until then, mata ne! (See you again!) 🌸🎥✨
Want to know more about Kobe? Check out this Blog!
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ross-hori · 3 months
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Couple of covered shopping streets in Kobe. They're part of my walking route if my destination is on the mountain side of the city.
These were taken on a Sunday, hence the complete lack of humans wandering the streets.
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burningbread · 6 months
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P3 Lore-cations
(Will contain Persona 3 spoilers)
Ok, ok, I know this may be common knowledge at this point, but I’m still reeling from the amazing amounts of lore hidden in P3’s geography and I just HAVE to talk about it.
So first of all, let’s talk about Iwatodai and Tatsumi Port island. These are fictional locations of course, but things happened and I found myself looking up on wether they had any real life equivalents. So well, do they? Well, here’s where it get a little complicated. First of all, Moonlight Bridge and Iwatodai Station in the game are said to be based off real world locations Rainbow Bridge and Shinbashi Station. This should place P3 somewhere here:
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And yea, that mostly checks out geographically. However, personally I’ll like to think that Persona 3’s Iwatodai and Port island are also partly based off a different location, the city of Kobe:
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Partly because the shape of the P3 map (pictured below) personally looks to be the shapes of these 2 locations mashed together, and also because as you can see from the photo of Kobe above, Tatsumi Port island is likely based off a real world location named “Port Island”, which is located near Kobe.
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Now, all of that is already really interesting in and of itself, but here’s the real kicker and another part of why I believe that Persona 3’s Iwatodai and Port island are partially based of Kobe.
Kobe is written as 神戸 in Japanese kanji. When the kanji are separated, 神 translates to god, and 戸 to door.
This means that 神戸 could be technically translated as “Door God”. Sounds familiar?
It’s not like the persona 3 protag becomes half a god and turns into a door stop the end of the world or something… right?
Yep, it looks like poor Minato has been destined to be a door as soon as he Stepped foot into Iwadotai. Speaking of which, Iwatodai is written as “巌戸台” in Japanese kanji, and that second kanji should look very familiar to you as of now.
Also, here’s another fun fact about P3’s geography. The rainbow bridge is located in a part of Japan literally named “Minato”. Yes, I know Makoto is technically the more canon name? It still doesn’t deny the fact that “Minato” is technically still a canon name for the P3 protag, even if it has been cast aside for a while and never actually used in a game. Heck even “Sakuya” is technically canon all things considered, but I digress. Either way, it’s Funny that the Moonlight Bridge’s real world equivalent is located in a place named “Minato”.
Also, speaking of Moonlight bridge (aka Rainbow Bridge irl). The persona 3 protag crosses the Rainbow Bridge and meets death (sealed within him) on the other side? Yea, you can’t tell me that entire backstory was a coincidence.
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ghostycore · 10 months
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DESTINY — in the cards for @realityclub!
neon lights slide like a lens flare over their faces, shading danyi in highlights of yellowbluepink, with green that carpets the floor with the smell of old plastic and sugar sweet drinks. they're on course two, drink tres, and she's not good at keeping score, but she did get into on someone else's card and hasn't been spotted for swiping the glowstick glasses that perch on her nose, or the rings that shine underneath the black lights. so yeah, danyi probably owes sodam a little bit, maybe a lot — so she's helping the other girl find her soulmate, destined one, love of her life, all of that and more on the mini golf course.
not that the cards are telling any truths, though, other than sodam's photocard and the credit she'd paid. but who says crazy things can't happen? they've seen the signs twice now, and third times the charm, you know. maybe her mom's right about the spirits; maybe danyi's a crock full of shit and idle lies... but she makes a great mini golf partner. those two might balance out.
she tosses the stray ball into the goal, head tilting to the side with a little touch of smugness. "kobe!" danyi scores, well, cheats... but only in the way that the very best of mini golf players get away with. her hand tilts back with a flick, blinking back at the glogolf staff frowning in confusion between her 'hole in one' and where danyi's standing. she gives them a wide wink, laughing and pulling sodam over to her. "see? direct action," whatever that means, she barely passed college, "you just gotta believe." danyi nods over her sage advice, then bestows her prop glasses over sodam's face, a grin illuminated by the glow of neon across her friend's peripheral vision. "and remember to look out for the signs, babe!"
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