#it gave me brain worms as a fellow old man myself

[breadandblankets]

duke and damian like going to the park together, duke goes to play chess against Gotham's geriatric population and Damian is going to feed the birds

#im still thinking about the duke and dami are old men post #it gave me brain worms as a fellow old man myself #batfam #duke thomas #damian wayne #damian also plays chess really well but he says its inferior to weiqi and refuses to play #damian and duke should play weiqi together tbh #duke thomas is the scourge of gotham's blue hairs (affectionate) #he has dozens of grandparents now he doesn't know what to do with them all #he has to tell them hes taken after one too many kept trying to set him up with their grandchildren #old people scent smart handsome young men like blood in the water 😂😂😂😂

[kevinbugle]

King of Tin: Chapter 1

Waking up on a pile of plastic, rusty metal, and other spare bits of rotting garbage can never be the ideal way of waking up but unfortunately for me that is how my day started. Speaking of which, who am I? It took me a few minutes. Nix is about as far as I got. Nix. It didn’t sound right like saying a word too many times that it sounded familiar but wrong even though it's still the same word. But it was all I had to go off of so Nix it is. Now onto the next conundrum I faced; where am I? As far as the eye could see where piles upon piles of trash, rotting, bloated, festering trash. How I got here or why I was here completely escaped me. I don’t really know anything to be honest. I got up which was a hard task to complete as everything felt completely numbed until I tried to move my pelvis in under to sit up and then a wave of pain crashed through me. Blood rushed through me.

My predicament changed for better or for worse would be determined when a large figure approached me. It was a person but that could be easily mistaken as a pile of trash that had grown legs and started to move on its own. His hat was nothing more than a lid from a trash can with bits of Styrofoam dangling around the perimeter making it look like the ugliest sombrero ever invented. He wore a giant rain cloak that was covered in a strange greasy, ichor. Underneath the cloak he wore another thick jacket that was equally as musty. Trinkets, baubles, and other random junk strung around his chest and belt. He lumbered my way and I was so perplexed by his appearance I took no thought as to whether I should be afraid or not. But he managed his way over to me. He towered over me as I laid in the filth.

“Hi. My name is Pavel,” the man, Pavel, cheerful said to me. His face to no surprise was caked in grime. He had a prickly black beard and from the looks of it seemed he was bald.

“Nix,” I replied

He hand shot into satchel on the side of his hip. He rummaged and pulled out a little notebook with a pencil tied to it. He opened it up and jotted something down. “N-I-X, I assume?” He asked.

“Yeah,”

He put the notebook away. “It’s my book of names. You're the first Nix I’ve come across,” He smiled at me and waited awkwardly for me to respond. 

“Thanks,” It made sense to say.

“So Nix, what brings you here?”

“I have no idea,”

He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Really? No idea at all?”

“No idea,”

“Well, that’s a bummer. Can you move okay?”

“Let me see,” and I mustered the strength and attempted to stand up. It hurt but I managed.

“Good work,” Pavel smiled at me

“Thank you,”

“You want to hang out at my house?”

“Yeah, sure,” I didn’t really want to but I had nowhere else to be. But now that I thought about it, he’s house was probably just somewhere here in the junk.

He held onto his smile “Right this way then,”

Pavel turned and started walking and I followed. Maybe it was the weight of all his junk but Pavel was slow as shit. He waddled more than walked but lucky for me I was also sort of waddling as my legs didn’t feel quite right so for the moment I was content with the pace. It didn’t help that the floor was made up of uneven junk so it was like stepping on rocks, jagged, rusty, smelly rocks. We walked for what seemed like half an hour before we were stopped. There was a man in front of us. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a metal skull mask on and his eyes were glowing red. He wore thick, red cargo pants and had various cains hanging between his pockets. The most concerning aspect of him was the big wrench he had in his right hand. Pavel and I stopped. I stood behind Pavel. Pavel didn’t seem all that bothered by the man but I couldn’t see his face.

“Greetings traveler,” Pavel said to the skull man

The man groaned and then coughed or maybe it was a laugh that came out wrong. Some kind of liquid squirted out between the teeth of his skull mask. “Hand it over,” the man finally croaked out. He extended out his hand. “Your Paste,”

“I have no Paste,” replied Pavel, more concerned and serious than he had been with me. I could rightly assume that Pavel wasn’t happy to see this guy. Maybe an old rival.

I was very concerned about what this paste stuff was.

“Haha, I know you got some *ugh* Paste there buddy so *snort* hand it over,” the man shot back.

Pavel pulled back his cloak and grabbed something.

“Heehee,” the man snickered loudly and I could see his fingers flex around the handle of the wrench. Oh dear. The man lunged forward but with one quick movement, a blur of silver, Pavel demolished him across the face with a club. The man lurched backwards clutching his skull face.

He howled “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ooooooooooo,”

Pavel was holding a metal rod, nothing really special about it, just wrapped with tape at the handle but it was oddly shiny compared to how dirty everything else he carried was. “You done?” Pavel firmly said.

“RAH,” The man hissed back at Pavel. In another swift motion, Pavel extended out his arm and brandished what I assumed was a gun, I don’t know what else you would point at a man with deadly intent. Pavel pulled the trigger and a large spike shot out from the machine and glided straight through the man’s head. The spike impaled itself and the man’s entire brain onto a pile of trash behind him. The skull faced man obviously went slack and collapsed. I gasped.

“Oh bother,” Pavel plainly said.

“You killed that guy,”

“Yeah,”

“Wh-,”

“He’ll be fine,”

“Fine? You blew his brain out, the whole brain!” I exclaimed.

Pavel turned to look at me “He’ll still be revived, might take a couple of days but he’ll be good as new soon enough,”

“Revived? What are you talking about?”

Pavel looked really confused. “You don’t know?”

“No I don’t. I don’t know anything right now. I don’t know who you are, or who is-was that guy, I don’t know where I am or why I’m even here for that matter. So yeah, I don’t know,”

“Oh… my bad. Um, okay let me explain this,” Pavel meekly said. I may have offended him with my little rant but I couldn’t help myself. “People here don’t die. I don’t know if you noticed that green flash in the sky but it’s a satellite. Everytime it passes by everyone that’s dead gets revived at their bed,”

I stared at Pavel. Shit, I had no reason not to believe him. What am I talking about, of course I shouldn’t believe him.

“Here, we can wait here and watch,”

So we did. Sure enough, faintly up in the sky, a bright flash. Then the body of the man turned completely green, even the brain that was impaled on the spike. He glowed and glowed until it finally melted. And then nothing. 

“See,” Pavel looked at me.

I didn’t really know what to say. “So he’s going to be fine?”

“Well,” Pavel itched the back of his head. “It’s not good to die too often. It can cause scarring and if you do it too often in a short amount of time you can go a little mad. I think that's what happened to this fellow. Oh, that’s why he wanted Paste. Paste can help those that have died a lot feel new again. It heals the scars and settles the mind,”

I just stood there and blankly stared at him. Pavel stared back. He got a slight nervous look on his face and slowly started to turn. He began walking and I followed him. Immortality: with some slight downsides. It was a lot to take in. Everything was a lot right now.

We kept walking. We walked for what seemed like hours and the junkyard never seemed to end. But it did. Sort of. The floor stopped being made out of trash and instead turned into what one would assume to be dirt. It was hard and completely white. Other than that, barren. We pressed forward leaving behind this seeming enormous pile of trash that apparently was just laying there in the middle of this desert. Ahead, I saw a cabin. Pavel’s cabin. If one looked at Pavel and then this shack, it would be easy to tell it belonged to him. Trash littered the perimeter. The outside wooden walls had random trinkets and curios hanging off of it. He was a hoarder and damn good at it. Pavel led me inside. I immediately felt claustrophobic as the room we entered was cramped from all the trash. Pavel moved through it with ease like a nimble deer. He disappeared behind some boxes. I looked for a place to sit. I found a beyond dusty little sofa and plopped myself down. It felt nice to sit. I tried to take in all of Pavel’s “collection” but the thought just made me dizzy. So I stared up at the ceiling and waited for Pavel to return. Understandably, it took him about five minutes to remove his whole loadout. He returned to me with a once white flannel turned more ashy gray and a blue beanie. He still wore the same dirty cargo pants. Pavel looked so small now. He looked old too.

Pavel smiled at me, friendly like always. “What do you think? I know its a bit messy, haha, I wasn’t expecting anyone over,”

“It’s nice Pavel,” I kindly said to him.

“Ah, lookie here,” He reached down like a bird finding a worm and pulled out a brown paper bag from underneath the heap of trash. He handed it to me. I opened it. It was filled with rubber ducks.

“It’s the start of a little collection I got going on. I’m a collector as you can see. Names, cans, scrap metal, ohhh, boots. I got big collections, ones that I’m really trying to grow but then I have smaller ones that I keep to the side like those duckies there,”

“You collect names?” I cock my head to the side.

“Why yes of course,” He pulls out his notebook from before. He handed it to me and began to flip through the dusty pages. He must have had fifty pages filled top to bottom with names. I gave it back to him with a weak smile.

“Pavel?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Where are we?”

“This is my house,”

“No I mean, this planet,”

“Oh, this is Tin,”

I paused for a moment. “And where in Tin are we?”

“Oh I don’t really know. We don’t really have names for things, just towns but other than that everything is just Tin,” He paused and he started to frown. “Are you not from here?”

“No,” I answered. I didn’t know where I was from but I know it wasn’t from here. “How do I get out?”

“You can’t. The King doesn't let anyone,”

“The King? There is a king?”

“Yeah,” He plainly responded. “He runs the place, him and his white knights. He’s rules are very relaxed. I’ve never had a run in with him. His one rule is no one leaves,”

“Where is he?”

“You want to see the King? Why?” He looked absolutely baffled.

“I have to get out of here,”

Pavel paused and seemed lost in thought. “I don’t know for sure where he lives but I know someone in Smalltown could help you, the warden perhaps,”

“Can you take me to Smalltown?”

He smiled weakly. “I can show you the way there but I can’t leave this junkyard. It’s too valuable to me,”

“What do you mean?” I asked

“It may seem like junk to you but sometimes you find stuff too precious to let go. You're not the first person I’ve found in the junkyard. Spaceships that fly too close to Tin are shot down by the King. Sometimes the pilots survive and I’m able to get to them before the white knights do,”

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod my head. 

Pavel slaps his knee. “Ah but you can’t go traveling in that, here I’ll let you borrow some stuff,” And with that, he got all giddy again and disappeared into the trash. I slowly got up from the chair. I still had no idea of anything. I don’t know where I came from or how I ended up here on Tin. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I wasn’t even entirely sure if my name is Nix. But finding the King just felt right to me like it was something I was doing before this happened to me. It was something and is this haze of confusion it was all I could go on. 

Pavel came back with his arms filled with a bundle of what looked like clothes. “Alright. I brought you some better clothes. I know it seems warm now but trust me, sometimes the weather will go on the fritz and next thing you know you're in a territorial downpour and you’ll be thankful for this jacket,” He handed me a black leather with a hoodie stitched into it. It was very thick because of this. He also handed me a gray flannel and some worn out jeans. I stripped in front of him. The clothes somehow fit me almost perfectly. I was wearing a plain white t-shirt and greyish white pants with no pockets. When I take my shirt off, Pavel raises his eyebrows. 

Pavel smiles weakly again. He hands me a device. It’s a cell phone. “Can’t go without one of these. Here, this one is wiped already so you should boot it up real quick,” and I did as he said. Once I finished the installation, Pavel reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Pavel’s phone had a ginormous case and thus looked like a black metal brick. “Here, I’ll give you my number in case you need any help on your little adventure,” I punch in his number. Next he gives me a simple sandy colored backpack. After I put the pack on, Pavel reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun still in the holster. I swallow hard.

“You’ll need this,”

I nod. I take the gun. My palms start to sweat. I hastily clip the gun onto my belt.

“Thank you Pavel, you saved my life,” I calmly told him.

“It’s what I do Nix,”

I don’t need to say anything. We both nod at each other and head outside. Pavel leads me a few miles away from his house and then stops. “It’ll take you about a day or two on foot but Smalltown is just straight that way. It’s hard to miss,”

“Thank you again Pavel,”

He gives me a big smile again. “Good luck Nix. Don’t be a stranger,”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Holes in the sky (Steve Rogers)

Summary: As Thanos arrives Y/N recalls how she and Steve met.

Warning: mentions of violence, angst and a bit of fluff

Word count: 1102

Holes in the sky - M83

We were standing next to each other when It happened. A loud noise echoed around us as the sky above us ripped open. I’ve seen some pretty crazy and unbelievable things but this one was definitely number one.

I looked up wide-eyed trying to take the sight in, but my brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I was shaking visibly, fear taking over my body. That’s when I felt it. His hand firmly clasping around mine, our fingers intertwined, two hearts beating as one allowing the stress and fear to slowly dwindle.

I turned to look at him, my (Y/E/C) eyes meeting his blue ones that always held so much love and admiration for me. I don’t know why, I’m not a hero, far from it to be honest.

When I first met Steve, we were fighting on opposite sides, I was actually supposed to kill him. Steve was a man of principle and that’s why he often found himself in the line of fire of a wide variety of enemies. That’s how he managed the piss off The Brotherhood.

Yup..I was one of them. I’m a level 5 mutant with the ability to absorb any kind of talent someone possesses, supernatural or not, with skin on skin contact. It wouldn’t be as strong as the original, but it was enough. My ability got out of hand pretty quickly and I ended up at Xavier’s school which only allowed me to come in contact with a lot more abilities I needed to learn to control. Eric approached me and explained how they were fighting for a world where mutants had equal rights and I let him talk me into joining them. Shortly after I got the kill order for Captain America, because apparently he was an obstacle in our fight.

I didn't know much about him as I've spent most of my life sheltered from all the bad...overprotective parents...at least they were that way until I almost killed everyone in my school. The X gene usually activates when you're in a stressful situation, and what's more stressful than high school bullies?

After the incident I was sent packing and that's when Charles Xavier found me. I was thankful of course, but it was very hard watching all of my fellow mutants being picked on, attacked and even killed. As time went by I got sick of it and my heart was filled with resentment for humans, I guess that's why I was an easy target for Eric. Joining The Brotherhood was an easy decision for me, but it came at a high price. I had to leave Xavier and all my friends behind. I had to leave a big part of who I was behind.

So, that's how I, a twenty two year old girl, found myself fighting the infamous Captain America. I tried the 'observe and attack later' tactics. His routine was quite easy to get a handle on: 5 am runs, 8 am coffee, 10 am The Avengers tower, 5 pm home. I realized my best bet was to catch him off guard on his morning runs. I bought a sniper and tried to shoot him...yeah..didn't work. That stupid red dot was a dead giveaway. He ended up chasing me (guess he didn't miss that run after all) and eventually catching up on me. I was pretty bad at hand to hand combat and he got me down in seconds. I fessed up and to my surprise, instead of jail time, I was asked to join The Avengers.

It didn't take long for me to become an important part of the team. It took even less time for him to became an integral part of me. Steve wormed his way into my heart with his caring nature, undying loyalty and perseverance. Every morning he'd show up with a latte at my door and walk me to The Tower...he changed his routine. Instead of going home, his nights were usually spent with me in the movies or in little diners that were just outside of New York. I'd get him to volunteer in animal shelters with me on the weekends, I even taught him how to skate.

I loved history and this man was sort of the embodiment of it. He'd tell me about life in the '40s and about his life before the serum. I liked how honest he was with me. Steve gave me a sense of security, I finally had someone to lean on. I remember his short blondish hair, his eyes were seriously blue...Like almost sickeningly blue - full on Prince Charming, field of cornflower, perfect, cloudless sky blue. It wasn't the color of his eyes that were so breathtaking, as it was what was inside them. He was brave, funny, creative, charming, determined, patriotic, tough when he had to be, but also a dreamer and a romantic soul.

Here we were, looking at each other as the sky quite literally was falling down on us. His hair was a little longer, darker. His face showed small wrinkles, his beard was thick. Steve was older, but I still saw a Brooklyn kid just trying to do the right thing. I saw my Steve. I looked at him like it was the last time....it might as well be, trying to memorize every detail of his face to cling to in my time of need. I could tell he was trying to do the same.

It wasn't the first battle we were in...but I had a sinking feeling it would be our last..at least for one of us. This threat was greater than all of us and we both knew it.

I reached out and pulled his face closer to mine.

„I love you Steve Rogers.“ I whisper trying not break.

He kisses my lips softly and leans his forehead on mine.

„This isn't how our story ends.“

I nod, but I wasn't so sure. My gut told me something bad will happen.

„I know...just in case.“ I reply.

„I love you too..till the end of the line“, he says as a loud crash is heard somewhere in the city. „Just in case“ He adds.

“Wakanda?” I ask him beforehand.

“Yeah...Bucky.” he starts, but I already knew.

“I can open a portal, but be quick. Stay safe.” I tell him.

With one final look and a quick peck on the lips we part our ways joining the fight for humanity before us. I watch his fading figure as my heart is overshadowed by darkness necessary to keep me in this fight. Till the end of the line, my love...

#Steve Rogers #captain america #thanos #infinity war #x men #x gene #the brotherhood #Charles Xavier #eric lensherr #The Avengers #the avengers infinity war #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 55: The Swordsmanship Bible

The Faceless shows off the best of world-class swordsmanship against Yahiko’s kendo. How will the Tokyo Samurai Descendant get out of this predicament?

The rest of the chapters of my Rurouni Kenshin fan fiction are available here. Enjoy.

Earlier, before Yahiko Myojin went to the Yokohama Chinatown...

To be more specific, Yahiko Myojin was invited by Satsuki "May Brooks" Sakaguchi and others to join the Musou Madden School to help protect Kinta Minakata and his uncle from ne'er-do-wells at an affiliate company's Chinatown office.

Yahiko considered to whether or not he should fulfill the role of bodyguard in order to defend yet another V.I.P. (Very Important Person) with connections to the Meiji Government.

Maybe he shouldn't go since it was none of his business really, but then again he reasoned that dealing with things that wasn't any of his concern was how his idol, Kenshin Himura (now Kenshin Kamiya) lived his life.

At least that was what he told himself as the spirit-and-image of Kenshin (hidden behind an eye patch and a garish wig) looked back at him with cutely blinking innocence.

"Can you stop staring at me that way, Minoe? You're... weirding me out," Yahiko told Munenori Minoe, who was "disguised" currently as a man but was actually the female assassin of the Hidden Christians, Kaede Morinaga.

Munenori's eyes... well, eye, he was wearing an eye patch on the other eye... darted back and forth between Yahiko and the floor. "You okay, Yahiko-chi? I heard from Chizuru-chi that Marimo-chi dumped you."

"...I DUMPED HER!" yelped Myojin more defensively than he intended. He then realized he sounded more mean-spirited than he intended. He afterwards took a deep breath and revised his statement.

"I mean, no, not exactly. Nothing happened. No one dumped anyone because neither of us was involved with each other that way, okay? I just... cleared a misunderstanding, that's all. Leave Marimo alone."

"Okay," the pouty Minoe said, pouting. "Stop being mad."

"StOp BeInG MaD," mocked Yahiko with crossed arms. "I'm not even mad, stupid Minoe."

"...Anyway, are you going or not, Yahiko-chi?" asked the eye-patched male—who was born a girl but he identified as a boy—with an inquisitive head tilt. "To serve as the Minakatas' extra bodyguard, I mean."

Fascinating how this seeming airhead before Yahiko was the infamous Fake Battousai. Or the Battousai of Speed. One of the strongest members of Shogo Amakusa's Battousai Group who gave even the Juppon Gatana's (Ten Sword's) Soujiro "Heaven Sword" Seta a run for his money.

On one hand, he (or she) perfectly mirrored the ingenuous, naive, and idealistic part of Kenshin.

On the other hand, this was the same person (albeit with a different personality) who mass-murdered the Fake Battousai Group formed in Shinshu then almost did the same thing to the kidnapper bandits in Hiroshima.

With that in mind, Yahiko asked in turn, "Do you want to go with me to protect the Minakatas from being assassinated, Minoe?"

Taken aback by the question, Munenori went silent for a few long seconds before whispering to Myojin, "I don't know. I might have to check with her. And I don't think she wants to."

"Her?" he asked, also whispering, although he already knew the answer.

"Kaede-chi," Minoe answered in kind, referring to his split personality Kaede Morinaga. "But even I'm not sure if I want to go help out Kagemusha-chi and his family either. I mean, Minakata-chi. I'm also upset he betrayed Amakusa Shogo-sama and the Hidden Christians."

Oh, that was right. They—Kaede and Minoe—also called the Mimawarigumi Battousai and the Kagemusha (literally Shadow Warrior, but in context it meant Doppelganger) because back when he was with the Hidden Christians, he served as Shogo Amakusa's body double.

They were the split personalities of the person before him. One male, one female. One meek as a sheep the other as aggressive as a wildcat. They were like night and day.

What happened to Minoe or Kaede for him or her to end up becoming two people in one body? Or more, if the Battousai of Speed could be considered a separate person as well.

Moreover, Kaede had lingering resentment over Kinta Minakata.

Apparently, the Mimawarigumi Battousai (yes, she and him were both Battousai clones) had betrayed the Kakure Kirishitan (Hidden Christians) about more than half a decade ago, while the Kenshingumi were dealing with Enishi Yukishiro and his Jinchu (Earthly Retribution) against Kenshin.

"Hey. Why are we whispering?" asked the Clueless Gan.

Ugh. Oh right. Gan was there with them. The freeloading oaf who'd been following Yahiko throughout his Musha Shugyo (Warrior Pilgrimage) since they first met in Shinshushin.

***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Here we have another session of kendo vs. fencing. Japanese kenjutsu vs. European swordsmanship. East vs. West. Also, the Sanada Sanyoukai (Three Demons) make their debut in this chapter.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 55: The Swordsmanship Bible

***

Back to your regularly scheduled Sanbaka program...

Yahiko Myojin really should ditch the Great (Pain-in-the-Ass) Gan, but they—Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe—were technically a trio through and through.

They'd been through a decade's worth of adventures in just a little over a month or so, if felt like. They dealt with pirates, ronin, and bandit kidnappers, among many other incidents.  

They were the Sanbaka (Three Stooges). Who even came up with that insulting name anyway? He already forgot. Was it Gan or...?

Never mind. He had something to ask the clownish thug anyway.

"Say, Gan. You want to serve as bodyguard to the Minakatas with me?" Yahiko asked. Just like we did with the Oyakata (Tetsuo Akahori) back in Shinshu."

"I'm having kishikan (déjà vu)," said the Goofy Gan before waving the feeling off, adding, "Oh wait, no I'm not."

"...O-kay," said Myojin, nonplussed (as in confused, not the other opposite meaning people associate with the word). The samurai kid rubbed his right temple as he felt a nerve or vein pulsate underneath his fingers.

"Let's try this again. Do you want to serve as bodyguard to the Minakatas with me, Gan?"

"...Oh! There it is! There's the déjà vu!"

Yahiko struck the Garrulous Gan on the noggin with his sheathed sword in order to truly knock some sense of déjà vu into him. Yeah, that old running gag. "Be serious for a minute here."

It was Gan's turn to rub his bandanna-sporting head. "You gotta admit the whole situation reeks of déjà vu. Instead of one Oyakata-dono (Tetsuo Akahori), we're dealing with a whole family of snotty rich people."

"Well, I guess you're right," conceded Yahiko. "But still..."

Gan and Minoe exchanged knowing looks. The bigger lout then said, "But you can't leave them alone because Kaori-neechan's family friends might get hurt, right? You just can't leave well enough alone. You can't keep your nose out of their business."

A petulant Yahiko crossed his arms. "They asked me to help. It's not as if I'm forcing myself into the situation or anything." He then mumbled, "It's what Kenshin would've done if he were in my sandals."

Munenori chuckled and said, "Mochiron (But of course). You're such a Kenshin fanboy."

"I don't want to hear that from the Amakusa fangirl. I mean, fanboy," muttered Yahiko.

Clearing his throat, Myojin turned towards his Sanbaka comrades then asked, "So will you help me out? Like ol' time's sake. Okay, not exactly, since the Shinshu debacle happened literally just a month ago. But still...!"

Gan gave Yahiko a firm, "No." He then appended, "Wait, that was a month ago? It felt like 18 years ago."

"Eh? Why not?" asked Myojin. "Helping people out with violence is literally what we've been doing all this time!"

Snorting with enlarged bullish nostrils, the Greedy Gan said, "Me and Patches (Minoe) offered our services to the Minakatas for money, and they said 'No thanks, we have more than enough bodyguards to spare!' The nerve of those guys! I don't work for free, ya know!"

Oh. That was right. Akahori actually gave them a reward for saving his life. "Come on, Gan! We saved Fukuoka City from marauding ronin (masterless samurai) and dealt with kidnappers in Hiroshima for relatively free! Do it to pay your debt to society, if not your ongoing real-life debts!"

Gan harrumphed. "Nope. No more freebies or public service protection. Pay me in cash or pay me in food and drink. You can take one man's trash to another man's treasure but you can't make it drink."

Yahiko almost felt his brain leak out of his ear canal from hearing that haphazard mixture of metaphors together. "Ah, Gan. I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Whatever. We'll burn that bridge when we get there," the Clownish Gan said, which this time made even Minoe's one uncovered eye swirl in confusion.

"Please, Yahiko-chi! Make him stop!" said a teary-eyed Munenori.

With a shrug, Yahiko replied, "Figures. You're not exactly the sharpest egg in the attic."

Two could play this game. This stupid, stupid game.

The Hypocritical Gan had the audacity to reply, "What in the blue blazes of hell and high water are you talking about, Yoshi-boy (Yahiko)?!"

"You've opened this can of worms. Now lie in it, Gan-chi."

To his fellow Sanbaka's surprise, it was a smiling, giggling Minoe who said that.

***

Back at the fight between The Faceless and Yahiko Myojin inside the room just next to the office where the Mimawarigumi Battousai and the Prodigal Son were having their own face-off...

A frustrated, sweat-drenched Yahiko blasted the room to smithereens with an explosive Dou Gami (God on Earth) in an attempt to distract his opponent enough to set him up for a Tsui Gami (God Hammer).

Or he attempted to, but the strongest strike from his Revisal Techniques came on too slow and left him too wide open to counter-thrusts, so he was forced to halve its power with a premature floor hammering and retreat using the cover of smoke and sawdust.

Only to come across the annoying fencer yet again, whose quick footwork cut him off the pass.

The Faceless kept his guard up, measuring his opponent with careful sword thrusts. He wanted to do a feeling out process on the kid, but they ended up coming at each other strong at the gates.

He wanted to take it easy but the kid forced him to go all out from the get go.

This teenaged samurai wannabe actually had the gall to try and break his rapier in two with his  inferior blunt sword! Imagine that!

He knew the reverse-edged sword shouldn't be able to break apart his rapier due to its superior high-grade steel, but this kid could make the floor explode with a swing of his weapon.

If this impudent kid were to hit his rapier just right with his blunt sword just right at its flattest, thinnest part, then maybe... No. That was hogwash. Nonsense. But still.

A distant possibility to be sure, but a possibility nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Myojin himself grit and ground his teeth together. He thought he could catch the swordsman flatfooted by breaking apart his sword with the God Hammer earlier, only for the rapier to prove resistant to breakage.

As though it were made of higher-grade western steel from the iron-rich countries of Europe or something.

Beat. Parry. Thrust. Over and over. It was a simple technique that should've been easy to counter since you saw it coming.

However, for whatever reason, Yahiko kept falling for the same trio of moves. A pause to lull the attacker to attack. A parry to the attack. A thrust immediately after the parry.

He wasn't a blindingly fast swordsman like Soujiro Seta. Or a fearsome attacker from all angles like Kaede Morinaga.

He instead practiced all the basics of swordsmanship and honed them to their highest level. He played around with Yahiko like they were having a sparring session.

Like he was a mere sparring partner. Like he were studying a swordsmanship clinic under this gaijin who did the most basic forms of swordsmanship yet could land on him at will.

If it weren't for the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu ougi (succession techniques) of Hadome (Sword Halt) and Hawatari (Sword Crossing), he'd be dead by now, if not in critical condition.

Nevertheless, je could only use the cross-wrist parry for so many times before an enemy could figure out a counter to it.

He also looked like he dove into a cactus patch with all the nicks, scratches, and flesh wounds he got from The Faceless's unbreakable steel rapier.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Myojin. "Are you part of the Brigands Guild?"

The disguise-wearing, mask-wearing man reminded the Tokyo Samurai Descendant of Aoshi Shinomori's right-hand masked man—the late, great Hannya. The second-in-command in the Tokyo Oniwabanshu.

"I'm known by many names," said The Faceless. "But right now, I am known as John Rathbone. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

'Right now? What did this weirdo mean by that?' thought the samurai kid before responding, "Myojin Yahiko. Remember the name!"

"Terribly sorry. I don't make a habit of remembering the names of future victims."

"...You son of a bitch!"

In the middle of this embarrassing swordsmanship lesson was a steady beat of weak, avoidable thrusts that kept Yahiko at a distance, not unlike the flickering, long-range staff strikes of May Brooks.

So how come Myojin could counter his sparring partner and get within her striking range but not this much slower fencer with a shorter-reaching rapier?

No, that wasn't it. That was oversimplifying things.

This assassin had rhythm in him. Like a dancer, he could time Yahiko's every strike then his upper body swayed, ducked, and went narrow when the boy managed to cut the distance between them.

This made him difficult to hit despite having a height advantage over the shorter young man. Also, his sword thrusts kept the samurai kid at bay, measuring their distance from each other every time.

His legs also circled and pivoted away from harm before the sakabatou could even touch him, on top of his lead sword hand parrying any other strikes that got past his legwork and bodywork.

This fight made John Rathbone—the duelist fencer personality of The Faceless—reminisce on how the Mimawarigumi Battousai countered his fencing with his own pure skill.

This boy was too inexperienced to figure out Rathbone's swordsmanship style.

However, he was skilled enough to avoid getting finished off by John's riposte. That parrying movement from his crossed wrists deflected his rapier stabs as much as the reverse-edged sword's own parries.

Furthermore, unlike many of his victims in the past, the kid seemed extra skilled at dodging sword thrusts. Like he'd been practicing against this very specific technique.

John marveled at how the kid's tenacity and his best technique—this cross-wrist martial arts block followed by a riposte—kept him from getting skewered when push came to shove.

Rathbone sneered. Yahiko couldn't keep up with the fencer's pure blade techniques, so he had to resort to parrying and riposting himself to survive.

My, my. This kid might prove himself as interesting a fellow as the Kagemusha himself. He was able to push him to an impasse.

'What an excellent Parry Riposte, even though his parrying technique is... unorthodox, to say the least. He's quite the blade catcher. Hmmm. I wonder if he could catch blades with his bare hands. I've heard Japanese swordsmen doing that before.'

The boy was even able to put a scratch on his mask and clip him to the abdomen with what could've been a rib-smashing body blow.

Enough fun and games though. The Faceless had a job to do.

To defeat the Parry and Riposte, one had to do a Compound Attack, otherwise known as a series of Simple Attacks timed with feints to open the defender up to a mistimed parry or riposte that left him vulnerable to the follow-up attacks.

Those were the mind games afforded by the Tactical Wheel that left even the Mimawarigumi Battousai stumped and confused.

It was like a game of Rock Paper Scissors wherein each item defeated the other. However, this time around it was Simple Attack beaten by Parry and Riposte beaten by Counterattack beaten by Simple Attack.

Just as Yahiko feared, his one counter to John's Beat Parry Riposte sequence that let him survive that long soon became too predictable.

Thusly, Rathbone tricked Yahiko into doing the Hadome too early in order to pry the kid's clamshell defense wide open, disarming him with the Circular Parry before he could do the another follow-up Hawatari riposte.

The sakabatou clattered uselessly on the floor. Meanwhile, the top of Yahiko's wrists gushed with his own blood after all the parries he done against John's naked blade with his uncovered hands and arms.

'...Dammit! This masked man is too good!' thought Myojin. He didn't really fall for the trap. Rather, he ran out of options and the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu two-part ougi was the only thing that worked against Rathbone.

His Plan B was actually doing his Hadachi (Sword Break) shirahadori (sword catching) technique—where he caught the sword by one hand and snapped it apart in twain or at least snatched it away—but Rathbone retracted the rapier in time before he could grab it.

Did Rathbone read his Plan B too? Had his every movement been predictable to the gaijin swordsman up to that point.

Nevertheless, as John Rathbone was about run his rapier through in the defenseless Myojin's wide, bugged-out eyes, they then both heard a banshee wail echo across the room from all four corners of it.

Like screeching widows crying at a battlefield filled with their husbands' and sons' corpses.

***

Back outside the affiliate offices of Minakata Pharmaceuticals in Chinatown...

A cold air around Kyoko Sakaguchi became colder somehow, her breath fogging in front of her as she took a knee, her legs buckling from underneath her. Her back felt like it was on fire though.

She looked over her shoulder. There stood—or rather, crawled—the goggled brigand member, looking like a walking bug with his gleaming lenses for eyes.

"Ah. An actual challenge," said he. "That was a superb sword slash. An excellent follow-through from a missed iaijutsu slash. That took me by surprise. You Musou Madden Ryu students are something else."

Resisting the urge to cry, she hissed athim, "Who are you? Why are you after Kinta-sama and the Minakata Family?"

"...Fine then. I'll give you my name, little one. I'm Hidaka Kai of the Fuuma Ninja Clan. Regarding the Minakatas, it's nothing personal, I assure. I'm just here to fulfill a job."

"Wh-Who sent you?"

She barely deflected another rope spear with the Fuyutsuki's naked blade that would've punctured her eye. The strain from her effort took her breath away, with her back screaming in agony for her while her actual throat could only gasp for air.

"Ah, the first piece of information was free. The rest you'll have to take from me. Over my dead body." Hidaka's lengthy exhale created billowing clouds of mist that he disappeared into.

'I-If only Seta Soujiro-kun were here...!' she thought, recalling the time when she saw Keisuke and his Fake Battousai Group murdered in the forest. She thought, like Yahiko Myojin did, that Soujiro killed those men.

It turned out that Soujiro didn't but the duel he had with Yahiko showed that he was quite capable of mass murder.

Wait. No. She had enough of men saving her from other men.

She should've been the one to confront Keisuke and his fellow criminals by herself.

She willed herself to sheathe her sword, knowing her normal swords swings weren't nearly fast or strong enough to even faze the enemy before her. She had to cut him down.

She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be more like her mother, her big sister, their family friend Chizuru Raikouji, or even Soujiro's girlfriend Rin Akahori.

She felt sick and tired of feeling so powerless all this time. She wanted to act. She wanted to help. This was the perfect opportunity to do so.

The Mikazuki O Tsuku Nari (Crescent Moon Slash) wasn't working against Kai Hidaka of the infamous Fuuma Clan.

Or rather, it couldn't hit the acrobatic target before Kyoko.

She tried pushing the ninja away from the compound with her one sword-drawing slash that was about a quarter the power of a Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari (Full Moon Slash) but was also a quarter of a hairbreadth faster.

The shinobi kept flipping away, swinging around with his rope darts, rope spears, and rope grappling hooks. He also swayed his body in weird contortions that prevented the young lady from landing her "signature move".

Actually, it was her best move, since she still hadn't mastered any advanced iaido or iaijutsu slashes above the Crescent Moon Slash, such as the Hangetsu O Tsuku Nari (Half Moon Slash) or Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari (Full Moon Slash).

Of course, the Aoitsuki O Tsuku Nari (Blue Moon Slash) was definitely out of the question. That was a bridge too far for her at this point.

'So this was the power of the Fuuma Clan Ninjas,' she thought, her slashes unable to land. She couldn't chain her attacks as well as Sho Kojima either, so it left her open to counterattacks every time.

Kai toyed with her. Instead of doing counter slashes, he ripped her clothes apart instead to embarrass her, unwilling to hurt her any harder than the deep slash on her back.

How dare he.

Hidaka wolf-whistled. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

This only enraged her further, her slashes becoming sloppier as a result.

She missed him again with her quick-draw slash, not having enough time to sheathe her grandfather's sword as Kai threw a rope spear to her neck.

She then deflected the follow-up projector with her empty scabbard. However, this time around, it resulted in her getting entangled by the rope because Kai jumped over her head then ran circles around her to lasso his rope across her small body.

She fell to the ground, practically hog-tied by Hidaka, who pulled the cords tight enough to make her trip on herself and lose her balance.

Hidaka harrumphed. "Jeez. Even the innocent granddaughter of a Musou Madden Ryu master is troublesome to deal with. What a fearsome iaijutsu school you have there, Missy."

The ninja warrior then shot another rope dart to the roof, with the intention to hide inside the ceiling in order to ambush any remaining, surviving bodyguards who'd dare exit the premises.

"P-Please. S-Stop..." she begged, her eyes welling up as she crawled towards Kai like a worm. "Father is...!"

She remembered that her father was still inside the building. She didn't want Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi ending up stabbed from behind by this nimble, rope-climbing shinobi.

"Stop? No. I'm sorry, young lady. I can go wherever I want or do whatever I please. For I am the last of the Fuuma Ninja Clan and I have its name and reputation to live up to."

As he rappelled upwards into the roof, that was when Kyoko attacked him, maneuvering her grandfather's blade in a way to cut through the tight bonds on her arms, hips, and legs.

She dashed towards the flatfooted Kai, quick-sheathing her sword with a supersonic ping sound like a gunslinger holstering his gun for a showdown.

Huh. She had the gall to play possum against him, huh? Right after he decided to spare her life and all too!

Hidaka pulled and retracted the rope spear he shot into the roof, turned, and aimed it at the foolish teenaged girl running towards him with malice in her heart.

***

Back at the main office of the moneychanger building...

Books flew from the bookshelf. Papers scattered across the floor. Vases shattered. Tables were broken in half. Every inch of the walls and floor got marked up by deep cuts and slashes, as though an ax murderer was on the loose there.

Most importantly, blood was spilled. Piles of bodies and limbs were strewn about for good measure. The several of the surviving bodyguards had long ago fled.

What a messy reunion Kinta and Takuto Minakata were having. Their sibling rivalry went to another level of violence even though mere minutes ago, they were mere strangers.

The Battousai of the Mimawarigumi lived up to his ruthless reputation that earned him the same nickname as the Battousai of the Ishin Shishi then and there by absolutely confounding the invading foreigner bastard wielding a bastard sword before him.

A man whom he shared blood with. His half-brother from another father. The Prodigal Son of the Minakatas.

While Yahiko underwent a western swordsmanship clinic under the "tutelage" of The Faceless at the room next to the office they were occupying, so too did Kinta Minakata "school" his estranged younger brother about the ins and outs of Japanese swordsmanship or kenjutsu.

A samurai clinic for kenjutsu and how much faster it was than westernized swordsmanship, if you would.

"Shit," said a bloody Lucas Grant as he spat out blood from his busted lip that was clipped by his big brother Kinta's blinding quickdraw moves with his sword. It was called "Iaijutsu", if Lucas remembered correctly.  

Once upon a time, Lucas was supposed to be named Takuto Minakata himself ("Minakata" instead of "Akahori" because Kinta's father, Azuma Akahori, married into the more prestigious Minakata Family).

Lucas attacked with his hybrid sword at varying speeds, breaking his rhythm and the strength of his sword swings by shifting from wielding his bastard sword one handed or two handed.

He took full advantage at how his bastard sword was a hybrid between the one-handed sword and the two-handed longsword.

Ordinarily, this would've allowed him to chop apart and through anyone before him like a butcher would to hanging pigs at the slaughterhouse. They weren't able to predict his wild slashes as they came at varying speeds and strengths.

The two-handed slashes were stronger and bone cutting. The one-handed slashes were faster and flesh cutting. He also did feints for good measure in order to deal with the likes of his master, The Faceless, whenever they sparred.

On top of his whirling dervish of cold steel death, Lucas could also physically assault enemies with punches with his free hand and kicks for good measure. The pommel of his sword's handle also served as a hammering weapon.

The handle itself could block his brother's katana cold like piece of steel pipe.

He used his knowledge of the Tactical Wheel (taught to him by The Faceless) to the utmost in order to keep whatever enemy he faced guessing whether he was going to attack or draw out a counterattack that he'd counter in kind.

However, despite the many dimensions to his swordsmanship that was good enough to murder most of the bodyguards the Minakatas hired, his big brother read him like an open book.

With his almond eyes wide open, Kinta saw through Grant's sleight of hand that allowed him to slip in quick one-handed slashes in between full-on two-handed slashes.

The Kagemusha also made the Prodigal Son miss the mark at every turn, thusly punishing him with either the Tsunami (Tidal Wave) of Old Moon Slashes or the bone-shuddering power of a single Full Moon Slash.

Figuring out that his brother's thicker, denser sword (which was even bigger than Rathbone's rapier) was stronger than even his Japanese blade made of high-grade foreign steel, Kinta dispensed with parries and dealt countless ripostes instead.

If he had to parry, he parried the heavy longsword by the flat of the blade instead of its edge to prevent its thicker part from hammering and shattering his sword the Akatsuki (Red Moon).

Unlike Lucas's bastard sword swings that varied in rhythm and speed, all of Kinta's supersonic swings varied in strength instead. They were all so fast the naked eye couldn't see them.

Their differences in speed between his weakest slash to his strongest slash were instead a matter of milliseconds instead of whole seconds.

This gave the Kagemusha plenty of opportunities to slash apart the defenseless Prodigal Son—who only knew how to attack and whose best defense was unrelenting offense—at will with every swing.

Thusly, Kinta's white shirt became as pink as cherry blossoms because his brother bled on him.

Also, Lucas couldn't land a significant blow on Kinta at all. At least when he sparred with The Faceless, he was able to land once or twice. He couldn't catch his big brother all this time.

Thus Kinta also lived up to his other nickname, Kagemusha. Fighting him was like boxing with your own shadow. He was untouchable.

The literal son of a gun looked like he'd been scourged with whips from the amount of cuts, flesh wounds, and outright ugly lacerations he got from the inimitable Kagemusha.

The shorter Minakata manhandled the taller Grant as though their heights were in reverse and Kinta was the bigger, stronger one of the two.

Like an adult would a little kid. Or how a big brother would toy with his younger sibling.

'Dammit. Cain was right. You really are something special,' thought Lucas.

Aloud, Lucas told Kinta, "Even though you're literally killing me right now, you're the one Minakata I want to kill the least. Aniki (Big brother)."

The Mimawarigumi Battousai could only respond with a glare, his body as tense as a tripwire ready to let his sword fly at the slightest movement from the implacable man before him.

Kinta's ototo (little brother) kept on coming at him like a recurring nightmare, his every wild slash that missed him by inches or centimeters felt like it could lop off his limbs or chop his body in half. Or even in quarters.

A high-pressure offense that pushed him to the edge even though he had not been hit once.

It was like playing dodge the car in the middle of traffic of a busy highway, dodging carriages and wild horses at every turn. Wherein one mistake could spell the difference between life and death.

Grant spared a glance at his Uncle Tatsuya, wrinkling his nose at him like he was a cockroach or a dung beetle. "And you, you're the one among the Minakatas that I want to kill the most. You vile scum."

Lucas remembered how Tatsuya actually hid behind one of his bodyguards and pushed him towards the Prodigal Son's bastard sword in order to escape a sword stab.

The banker truly was toxic sewage water personified. Pure garbage. A narcissist who valued his life over others.

Lucas was so disgusted by the display that he knocked out the bodyguard thrown towards him to spare his life. His life was much more valuable than the pig that used him as a meat shield to save his own hide.

Grant's one regret was all the collateral damage he had to go through in order to finish off the family who betrayed him and his mother.

In the background, Tatsuya Minakata—the uncle to both of the half-brothers—allowed himself to relax and put away his pistol. As insufferable as his nephew Kinta was, he was nevertheless doing short work of his sister's other brat.

However, he kept his grip on the gun regardless because he definitely felt that something was amiss.

The one who ended up out for revenge and hired the Brigands Guild in order to kill the members of the Minakata Family off. As if the fact that he was born at all as a bastard of some gaijin invader wasn't troublesome enough to the Minakatas on its own.

It figured that the forbidden... no godforsaken baby who brought shame to their family was back to pull them further into misfortune and despair. This lovechild of his sister was nothing but bad news.

His sister should've miscarried that devil of a bad seed of hers if he was going to be this much trouble in the future. They should've nipped it in the bud and had a special doctor conduct an abortion for her for good measure.

Tatsuya still had his hand on his pistol regardless. Not only because it was better to be safe than to be sorry.

He felt something was very wrong with this picture. Something was quite amiss.

For one thing, his stack of bodyguards within the room had all been killed, forcing his V.I.P. nephew to do bodyguard work for them.

For another thing, the state of his swordsman nephew concerned him.

Even though he didn't get so much as a nick or scratch from all the high-pressure sword swings he narrowly avoided, Kinta himself did more than break more than a sweat.

He wasn't only covered with his brother's blood but also his own sweat. His breaths became belabored, as though the effort of mauling the black sheep of their family sapped him of energy.

'What the hell are you doing, you stupid brat,' thought Tatsuya, cursing under his breath as he licked his dry, chapped lips. 'Being a professional murderer is the only good thing you've done for this family, dammit! Don't go buckling under the pressure now! Our lives are at stake! My life is on the line!'

Also of note, despite all the blood loss and wounds he received care of his sibling's accurate slashes, Lucas looked strangely calm (if a bit annoyed). Like he was used to being in such a sorry, injured state.

Like he was none the worse for wear. Like the sticky blood all over his body was red paint and his wounds were tiny paper cuts that mostly irritated him.

Tatsuya gulped. The lanky, reed-thin banker and ruthless businessman eyed the nearby exit. It wasn't all that far away, but while Lucas was there, that door might as well be located in China or America.

So close yet so far.

***

In the shadows lurked Kaita of the Sanada Ninja Clan. The invisible ninja (secret agent).  

He'd thrown several kunai (daggers) at the Prodigal Son to hinder his bloody warpath, which bought Kinta time to prepare himself and saved the lives of several Minakata bodyguards, allowing them to escape.

However, even though he kept the security safe, the two V.I.P.s he should've prioritized protecting remained in the line of fire against this crazed gaijin with his western-style double-edged katana.

Also, the kunai that stabbed Lucas Grant barely fazed him. Like he'd been pelted with pebbles or pricked with needles.

He wished he could do more to help, but this Takuto person seemed used to catching blades from out of nowhere. Like he was used to the shadowy tricks of ninjutsu (way of the ninja).

It must've been through Grant's training with The Faceless, who seemed like the western version of a Japanese shinobi (spy) himself.

Regardless, Kaita had one task at hand. To keep the Minakatas safe from harm by any means necessary.

In light of how worthless the Minakata bodyguards ended up being, the young ninjutsu master ended up relieved in retrospect that he summoned the Sanyoukai (Three Demons) of the Sanada Ninja Clan to help them out.

Sure enough, just as Kinta's Akatsuki clanged hard against the handle of Lucas's bastard sword, something rather stress-relieving happened.

Grant's handle block of the second attempt at the Blue Moon Slash (a double Full Moon Slash a fraction of a second apart from each other) would've finally allowed him to just grab hold of his tired brother and stab him to death.

However, fortune smiled on the Minakatas once more as one of the Three Demons appeared out of nowhere and blasted the lanky Lucas away right into the nearest wall like he was shot out of the cannon.

As though he were Marimo the Human Cannonball.

***

Meanwhile, in the next room where The Faceless and Yahiko Myojin were having their own duel...

A large, 6-foot-something barreled through the wall like it was made of cardboard with a crash worthy of a full-powered Dou Gami.

This allowed Yahiko to roll away from the thrust to his eye, the rapier clipping his eyebrow and temple, before he made a mad dash and scramble towards Kenshin's sakabatou.

Of course, he also had to stare slack-jawed at what happened first, along with The Faceless (presumably, since he was wearing a mask and his features weren't visible).

He had no time to think about what just happened and what its implications were. He just had to act fast, trusting his instincts would steer him through.

Anyway, what the hell was that? What came crashing down the wall? A bomb? A carriage?

No, it was a body. Another foreigner in a fetal position, covered in rubble, his blond hair matted with red blood.

Yahiko's eyes narrowed. The way the man crashed reminded him of Kenshin Himura's Dou Ryu Sen (Earth Dragon Flash) or his own Dou Gami (God on Earth).

Who was responsible for this?

The smoke cleared, and out came three shinobi also reminiscent of the circus freaks that were the Tokyo Oniwabanshu.

Each wore different masks, just like the loony with the rapier defeated all of Yahiko's Kamiya Kasshin Revisal Techniques.

One wore a green snake mask and had a gaudy armor made of snake scales. He held on both hands extra-thick twin whips that were also made of snake hide, their handles adorned with snake heads and their tips adorned with snake tails. Yes. He had taxidermy snakes for whips.

Another wore a scarlet demonic oni (ogre) mask with small horns on the forehead and spiky hair that might've been part of the mask design. He was decked in blood-red clothing and armed to the teeth with various swords, daggers, shuriken (ninja stars), and various projectiles. He held with him a two-pronged war fork.

The last one wore a realistic bat mask that looked like taxidermy work but its head was far too large to belong to a real bat. He had daggers attached to the side of his gloves like fins,  a black-and-blue garb that allowed him to blend into the night, and a bat-winged raggedy cape that billowed behind him.

"Yikesss. I think I overdid it with the ssshockwave," said the man underneath the snake mask, who had a bit of a lisp to his speech.

"Good," the solemn one of the trio, the one with the bat mask, tersely said. "You're supposed to do that."

The third man, the one with the horned ogre mask, cackled. "Baku is right, Ren. If you've actually managed to kill Lucas Grant, then our mission is complete."

"If that'sss the cassse, then ssstab him to death now, sss-Zan!" rebutted the ninja snake man named Ren, only to end up face-to-face with The Faceless.

"Oh, so the Minakatas had ninja backup aside from their usual collection of useless cops and hired guns and swords," said John Rathbone, his rapier at the ready as he did the fencing "En Garde" ready stance.  

'Who are these freaks?' thought Yahiko. 'Are they more of the brigands from the Brigands Guild? They aren't as tall as the foreign invaders, so maybe they're Japanese traitors like that one ninja guy they described in the briefing that swung around with a grappling hook and rope spears!'

However, the thing that happened next made Myojin doubt that all four of these masked men were allies. Otherwise, the Brigands Guild had a real problem with in-fighting among their ranks.

Rathbone ended up dueling all three of the demonic and animalistic ninjas before him, with them scattering like cockroaches then swarming him like bees from a disturbed hive.

Myojin couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't know what to be amazed at more—having these three ninjas push The Faceless to the brink or seeing The Faceless still avoid getting skewered or penetrated when faced with a triple team.

After that, Yahiko ended up seeing yet another masked ninja in front of him. However, this one wore the traditional ninjutsu cloth mask over the mouth rather than the elaborate costume mask of the other three shinobi.

"Oh good! One of you (the Minakatas' bodyguards) survived!" said the white-haired ninja who appeared out of nowhere, seemingly emerging from the shadows like how one would slowly fade out of existence in the darkness but in reverse. "Help me get evacuate the Minakatas out of these office!"

Huh. There was something mighty familiar with the way this ninja came out of the blue like that.

No, it wasn't like Aoshi Shinomori's Ryusui no Ugoki (Water Flow Movement). Instead, it reminded Yahiko of another ninja he fought recently.

Another invisible ninja.

Why was Yahiko feeling strangely nostalgic today? First, it was The Faceless and his stupid Tactical Wheel fencing. Second, it was this teleporting ninja. Maybe he was missing Tokyo a little too much.

"Uh, okay," said Yahiko, who then saw a sweaty Kinta and, uh, a trembling Uncle(?) Minakata follow behind this new ninja guy.

For some reason, the infamous Mimawarigumi Battousai and Shogo Amakusa's doppelganger looked pretty winded. Like he just ran a marathon.

"What's your name, bodyguard?" asked the ninja. "You're a bit short for a bodyguard, though."

"Tokyo Shizoku (Tokyo Warrior Class). Myojin Yahiko," answered Yahiko. "Also, I'm taller than you, Shorty." Sure enough, Kaita was indeed half a foot shorter than Myojin.

'Shizoku, huh?' thought Kinta. 'So he belongs to the same warrior class as the Sakaguchis.'

"Okay. Whatever, kid. I'm Kaita from the Sanada Ninja Clan. At your service," said Kaita.

"At my service?" asked Yahiko.

"No, you cheeky bodyguard. The Minakatas."

"Oohh."

Kaita shook his head. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. Out of all the bodyguards in the next room, the only one left standing was this boy.

Even though he had to face that monster. The man known by many names—The Faceless.

The swordsman from another land who dueled Kinta Minakata to a draw.

Kaita then turned and addressed everyone before him. "Kinta-danna (Master Kinta). Tatsuya-danna. Myojin-da... well, Myojin Yahiko. Follow me."

Kinta and Yahiko exchanged brief glances and curt nods at each other.

'It's that kid again. The one that Satsuki beat at sparring,' thought the Mimawarigumi Battousai. 'She barely beat him at sparring,' he corrected himself.

"You're from a samurai family, right? Who is your father?" asked Kinta, to Yahiko's surprise.

"He was a member of the Shogi Tai and died for his beliefs," Myojin answered.

"Shogi Tai, huh? He must be a well-respected man," said the Minakata heir, to which Yahiko could only nod and answer, "Yes, he was."

To himself, Myojin thought, 'He's much friendlier than Shinomori Aoshi after all.' What a nice guy, that Kinta.

He was a hell of a swordsman too, merely judging from how untouched he was against his foreign half-brother.

As Yahiko escorted the Minakatas along with Kaita towards the exit of the building, the overwhelming stench of death assaulted them as soon as they opened the door outside the main office.

Even before the Prodigal Son had declared his war on the Minakatas in person, he and the rest of the Brigands had already made short work of the army of hired guns and swords the Minakata Family got to protect them from assassination.

The rusty tang of blood permeated in the air like a heavy velvet cloak of red death.

'Oh no,' thought Yahiko, a chill running down his spine. 'What happened to Officer Daddy? I mean, Kyoko's father? Also, what about Kyoko? Or Satsuki? Did any of them make it or...?'

It reminded Myojin of the massacre of the Fake Battousai Group. Or the horror stories he heard about Makoto Shishio's Ten Swords.

According to Kenshin, they actually put a whole village under siege once just so Shishio could enjoy its nearby hot springs.

How was the Brigands Guild able to do this from under their noses? How many of them were inside the halls of this office? How many members did they have in the first place.

***

Back outside the affiliate offices of Minakata Pharmaceuticals in Chinatown...

'No,' Kyoko Sakaguchi thought with a grimace. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. After the countless hours of practice and drills, it couldn't end this way.

Was all the effort she exerted a waste after all? Could she never catch up against the more talented students of Musou Madden Ryu like Satsuki Sakaguchi or Kinta Minakata?

Was she always going to be a victim? Was she forever defined by the moment when the late Keisuke assaulted her and hurt her father?

'She's being too impatient,' thought Kai. 'She's rushing in and forcing her attack when quick-draw strikes are all about patience and timing. Just like an impatient child. Or an emotional woman.'

"NOOOO!" she screamed, attempting to do a Half Moon Slash of her own, but this put severe strain on her arms, hips, and back due to the increase in centrifugal force.

Identifying the sudden burst of speed, even if it was just slightly faster, Hidaka responded by throwing his rope spear right into the direction of the whirling and pivoting  girl.

She unsheathed the sword in time, the extra strong pull stretching her arm outward so hard it felt like it was going to get ripped off of her shoulder from the socket. The rope got sliced cleanly, its sharp end embedding itself into the ground with a dull thunk.

More importantly, because it was a Half Moon Slash, its striking range or area of effectiveness went further than just directly before her.

"S-So fast," the ninja couldn't help but mumble as Kyoko came at him like a streak of greased lightning.

Kai dodged the slash with an upper body sway, sidestep, jump back, and swing away with a rope dart to the roof. Like he always did.

Only for his face to get sprayed with a fountain of his own blood.

"WHAT THE HELL...!?" he screamed before gurgling and choking with the red liquid.

Kyoko didn't fare any better than Hidaka though.

Every nerve of her petite body—as well as she herself with her mouth—then screamed in agony after she failed to do the proper follow-through from the slash.

'I'm short of breath. My arms and legs feel so heavy they feel like someone else's. My thoughts are muddled. And I can't even think... Father, Grandpa, Kinta-sama, help...!'

She crumpled down on the ground like cloth that fell from the clothesline, with nothing to support it.

However, her effort bore fruit. She cut right into the vest and goggled mask of Hidaka, drawing blood from chest to neck and chin.

Any deeper, and the blade would've reached his heart and killed him. Sliced his jaw in half. Split apart his Adam's apple. Made him breathe through his neck.

This "mere" girl was a threat to his life after all. He had to finish her off.

He swung around the trembling girl then tired a noose around her neck, with the intention of hanging her like many of his other victims.

"You want a war? You're gonna get one, bitch. The Fuuma Clan wills it."

***

Back inside the long halls of the affiliate offices of Minakata Pharmaceuticals in Chinatown...

Kaita the Sanada Ninja led the Minakatas and Yahiko out of the office, which had become an unfamiliar labyrinth due to all the piled-up bodies and blood splattered all over the walls.

All the lamps were also cut down to size or had their flames put out as well, which necessitated the shadow warrior to take out a small lantern to light their way.

"Hey, Sanada Kaita. Where are we?" asked Myojin.

This guy. "My family name isn't Sanada," answered Kaita. "Also, you talk too much."

"But you just said you're from the Sanada Ninja Clan."

"Our ninja clan was established under the Sanada Nobishige. Laymen like you know him as Sanada Yukimura. Historically, we got the name of our clan from him in honor of him."

"No way. You're pulling my leg!"

"...."

Yukimura or Nobushige Sanada was a famous Japanese samurai warrior of the Sengoku (Warring States) Era. He was especially known as the leading general on the defending side of the Siege of Osaka.

He was a historical figure like Hajime Saito was, except even more ancient. So the Sanada Ninja Clan had been serving him since the late 1500s, huh? Their clan should therefore be 300 years old!

Yahiko blinked then nodded, rubbing his chin. "Huh. You learn a new thing everyday." To himself, he thought, 'Unbelievable. The Minakatas have historical ninja clans serving under them? It pays to be rich, huh?'

Something else then occurred to him. All this talk of historical figures reminded him of how Shogo Amakusa himself once embraced the name Amakusa, thusly calling himself the Second Coming of Shiro Amakusa.

The infamous Shiro Tokisada Amakusa led the Shimabara Rebellion, an uprising of Japanese Roman Catholics against the Shogunate from December 17, 1637 to April 15, 1638. They were defeated, and Shiro was executed at the age of 17.

As though Shogo was the grown-up version of that 17-year-old saint.

Could there be a connection?

The musty tang spread all over the rooms and hallways, seemingly permeating right into their clothes. It'd take weeks to wash the smell out.

Kaita, Kinta, and Yahiko were used to the smell, for good or for ill. Tatsuya felt like puking then and there.

The smell of blood and cut meat. They truly were dealing with butchers, weren't they?

"There shouldn't be more than three Brigands in this building," Kaita reported to his master, Kinta. "Two of their members are currently in Yokohama Police custody."

Kinta nodded. "Are you sure there are only five of them?"

Kaita responded, "We've researched all the recent arrivals at the Yokohama pier and recorded sightings of their criminal activities. There are five of them that we know of. Your half-brother, Lucas Grant. The man with many identities, The Faceless. The poison swordsman Cain Merrick. The acrobatic ninja Hidaka Kai. And the axe murderer Hugo Lentz."

'There are only five of them? And two of them are in jail?' thought Yahiko. 'Three people are responsible for this massacre? It's like we're dealing with hitokiri or the Juppon Gatana here!'

Kinta's eyebrows furrowed. "Something is amiss."

They then met up with a familiar face before they arrived at the exit.

***

Back outside the office...

The rope dart hooked itself unto Kyoko's shoulder, while the rope wrapped around her neck like a lasso over cattle. 'Oh no...!'

The sprain on her shoulder and the strain on her body kept her from using her grandpa's sword to cut down the rope.

Before she knew it, Kai Hidaka of the Fuuma Clan had already found a nearby tree for which to lynch her, with him using his own strength to raise her body up to hang her by her neck with the noose.

It hurt to breathe. Her life then flashed before her eyes.

She remembered playing around the dojo where Kinta Minakata practiced, admiring his perfect form and perseverance. She also recalled marveling at the golden locks of the foreign girl that would become her sister.

May Brooks was her birth name but she looked ecstatic when Grandpa Genzo had her put in the family registry as Satsuki Sakaguchi instead.  

There was also Chizuru Raikouji, who was her big sister's rich best friend that wasn't at all like the rich kids and adults that regularly visited the many Minakata special events and various properties across Yokohama and beyond.

She remembered her goofy father Satoru doting over her, which made her mother giggle. He was a soft-spoken yet dependable sort of man in contrast to her headstrong mother that kind of reminded her of Chizuru.

No wonder their family friend Chizuru and Nonoko got along famously. Like two peas in a pod.

She vaguely remembered her grandfather not approving of her parents' relationship, but her father won her mother over by supporting her dreams of opening her own soba shop instead of inheriting the family trade of blacksmithing and jewelry making.

'Mother. Father. Goodbye. I love you,' she thought as she drifted into the black abyss, tears falling from her eyes.

She then felt precious air to rush back to her lungs as the vise grip unto her neck loosened. Did the rope break? Did this enemy before them decide to spare her?

No, there wasn't a merciful bone in his body.

Unable to brace herself as she fell, she felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Afterwards, strong hands caught her in mid-fall.

She opened her eyes. First, her blurry eyes saw a flabbergasted Kai scrambling back to his feet. "What was that slash...!?"

She blinked back tears then saw her father carrying her. Saving her once again from harm.

She smiled. "Father."

He looked scuffed-up and his disheveled uniform was torn in several places, but he was otherwise all right.

He came back for her, even after she insisted to do bodyguard duty for the Minakatas when her whole family was against it.

He wasn't looking at her though. He instead stared straight at Hidaka, speaking in a cold voice and timber she rarely heard before.

"Get away from my daughter, you freak."

***

Lucas Grant dug himself out of the pile of wood and plaster that he got buried under after something made him crash into the wall.

Dammit, and he was so close to beating his skilled half-brother at their sword battle too! Who dared interrupt him and his long-lost brother's fateful duel?

"Yo. I sssee that you're awake, gaijin."

Lucas shook the cobwebs out of his head, his vision finally clearing as he stared at the person who said those disrespectful yet lisped words.

It was a grown man wearing a snake mask and leathery body armor made of snakeskin while holding two taxidermy boa constrictor snakes as whips.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am Ren of the SSSanada SSSanyoukai (Three Demons). And now that you know my name, you're asss good asss dead."

What the hell was he looking at? What was going on here? Ah, it didn't matter who this clown was. Or that he talked with a strange lisp. What mattered was that he was in the way.

He was in the way of his revenge against the evil Minakatas and like the noble demon of an heir. The Kagemusha who became their chosen one instead of him, the black sheep of their family.  

He then saw Ren whirl his snake whips in such a way that their resulting whipcrack—essentially a miniature sonic boom—burst into a huge shockwave of a landslide that buried him anew in plaster and wood as well as earth, rock, and tiles.

Huh. His mission of revenge in Japan was going to be tougher than he thought.

The whole room shook from the resulting explosion that Lucas jumped and rolled away from.

He grinned. 'Interesting.'

***

Before Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi went back outside to save his daughter from being lynched by the Brigands Guild's Kai Hidaka...

"Kinta-sama! Yahiko! Watch out! It's a trap!" a scuffed-up and disheveled Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi shouted out to the Minakatas and their escorts while doing battle with his saber on one of the guards he was with.

The quartet of Yahiko Myojin, Kaita, Kinta Minakata, and Tatsuya Minakata were in the middle of the lobby inside the moneychanger office when they were ambushed.

By the undead. Or rather, the living dead. As in their living traitorous bodyguard pretending to be dead, lying near the bodies of the unaware bodyguards they had killed.

Hiding behind freshly killed bodies was a classic ambush tactic by the ninjas of Japan.

Fascinating how the Brigands were able to come up with it. Perhaps it was taught to them by that acrobatic ninja in their ranks? Or maybe The Faceless himself had a ninja disguise and training.

"Watch out, Ojisan (Old Man)!" shouted Myojin, who snatched out the glinting something in the darkness by reflex.

The attempted stab to Tatsuya's side was deflected by Yahiko's Sword Break technique that allowed him to catch blades with his bare hands.

Instead of attempting to break such a short dagger, the boy instead twisted and broke the wrist of the man holding the weapon. This was before he slammed the handle of the sakabatou into the person's throat.

Kinta himself did a destructive Full Moon Slash  that dropped multiple attackers at once, resulting in multiple sprays of blood that didn't look any different from the rest of the splatters made by the actual bodies of dead bodyguards.

Yahiko whistled in appreciation. 'And here I thought Satsuki's Full Moon Slash was a thing of beauty! Damn. Look at how fast and smooth he drew out that katana. No wonder he's called the Mimawarigumi Battousai.'

Kinta didn't even break a sweat slashing apart their ambushers.

Weird. Earlier, he looked like he ran a marathon. So he already recovered from earlier?

From what little he'd seen of him so far, Yahiko surmised that Kinta's iaijutsu style was so perfect that he used minimal effort.

Wait. What was it about his half-brother alone that tired him out compared to him easily dispatching multiple attackers?

"You bastards! I paid good money for you! Traitors!" screamed a sweaty Tatsuya, who took out his pistol and started shooting at everything that moved, which made both Yahiko and Kinta jump away from him.

As for Kaita, he was nowhere to be seen suddenly. Did he abandon them in their time of need?

Nope. Instead, unseen from the darkness, he threw his kunai at various hidden bodyguards in between panels, sliding doors, walls, and ceilings as they moved in for the kill.

These blades served as tags or markers for both Yahiko and Kinta to take the remaining turncoats out with sword slashes, scabbard strikes, and pummeling handle strikes.

This ninja with the cloth mask and white hair was a pretty dependable person himself. Like a male Misao Makimachi or something.

It was here that Kinta noticed the strange blade of the young man. A reverse-edged sword. He heard tales and rumors of his namesake, the Hitokiri Battousai, carrying such a sword.

So Munenori Minoe was telling the truth. The kid that tagged along with him did know who the real Battousai was.

Fascinating.

The Yokohama Lieutenant finally reached the quartet after dispatching the last nearby bodyguard traitor. "We were setup! Every other bodyguard in this building is working for the Brigands."

"'Is'?" repeated Tatsuya before reloading his pistol, moving towards a groaning ambusher who was still alive, and shot him in the head. "Not 'is'. 'Was'."

Kinta then asked Satoru, "Where's Kyoko?"

Satoru answered, "I left her outside with the perimeter security guards." The color from his sweaty, bruised face then drained, his mouth hanging open as he mouthed, 'Oh no,' but no sound came out of his mouth.

A chill traveled the back of Yahiko's head, his heart sinking. "I'm going to save her, Satoru-san!" but then he got grabbed by the shoulder. By Kinta. "Wha...?"

"Please," said the Mimawarigumi Battousai. "Take care of my uncle. I'm going to Kyoko."

Yahiko gulped and absently nodded at Kinta. He then looked over beside him, expecting to see their ninja guide, but he couldn't locate him.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant then yelped out when Kaita chimed in from behind him, "Understood, Kinta-danna. Myojin Yahiko and I will escort Tatsuya-danna out of Chinatown."

And so it was decided that they split up, with Yahiko and Kaita protecting Tatsuya while Kinta and Satoru went straight for Kyoko.

However, even after exiting the moneychanger office, they weren't exactly home-free yet.

***

To Be Continued...

Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm also using minor Rurouni Kenshin filler episode characters along with Original Characters (Do Not Steal) to fill out the lore of this series.

However, Marimo Ebisu the Cannonball Girl did so well a couple of chapters ago that I couldn't help myself. Besides which, the Sanada Ninja Clan has been lurking around the block since the earlier chapters anyway.

The déjà vu joke from Gan is from an episode of "Friends". Phoebe says it. I also included some malaphors (the blending of idioms or clichés until they don't make sense) I've read in some meme in their dialog for good measure.

Danke, Abdiel

#rurouni kenshin #るろうに剣心 #rurouni yahiko #るろうに弥彦 #fan fiction #fanfiction.net

[junker-town]

What was Eric Cantona talking about after winning the UEFA President’s Award?

Photo by Eurasia Sport Images/Getty Images

After receiving the UEFA President’s Award before the Champions League draw, Eric Cantona gave an unexpected speech that left many in the room and the watching audience confused:

Wins the 2019 UEFA President's Award... Gives bizarre cryptic speech to confuse everyone in attendance. Eric Cantona, ladies and gentlemen pic.twitter.com/qNgZB0cFoW

— Football on BT Sport (@btsportfootball) August 29, 2019

Here, in conversation, we try to make sense of of Cantona’s speech and the themes that he referenced in it.

Zito: First of all, I want to say that his opening is incredibly poetic. I have a feeling that it’s a reference to some literature or some myth. It sounds like something that would have been in The Iliad. I’ve been repeating it to myself since I first saw the video. “As flies to wanton boys, we are for the gods. They kill us for the sport.” There’s actually a series of books, “The Complete Book of Swords” that has that premise that the gods do toy with human lives for the sport of it.

Graham: It’s Lear. Gloucester after he’s been blinded, wandering the heaths, lamenting his fate. His wings torn off.

Zito: You’re right!

”I’ th’ last night’s storm I such a fellow saw,

Which made me think a man a worm. My son

Came then into my mind, and yet my mind

Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more

since.

As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods,

They kill us for their sport.”

Graham: A fantastic cold opening to a speech.

Zito: Yes! I was trying to figure out why it sounded so familiar, but what an opening to receiving a football award.

Graham: So there I think Cantona is complaining about it being human nature to wither and die. Which is what segues him into immortality and science. Essentially the whole thing is a meditation on death and humanity.

Zito: Which makes his part about immortality not being able to stop the corruption of humans in the form of crimes and wars more understandable. That even if we are eternal, or when we become eternal, we will still be victims of human greed.

Graham: Right. But it’s not exactly profound, is it? It’s the sort of thing you might say when drunk around a campfire. It’s certainly weird and poetic and sort of interesting, but it’s interesting mostly because he chose to say it for a speech at the Champions League draw.

Zito: And then ending it with “I love football” as if he ran out of time.

Graham: I like the idea of adding ‘I love football’ to totally unrelated speeches:

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

I love football.

Zito: What is interesting about it to me, isn’t even what he said, but that idea of immortality. Which has been the central human fear since day one.

Graham: His purely biological conception of immortality might be worth unpacking. His understanding seems to be that aging comes through the slow failure of cells. Look, I’m not an expert on aging and I don’t think the science is even close to settled, but treating it as the result of the failure of individual cells is really reductive and treats humans like a static system. Which they are not. But it’s also interesting because immortality is inherently a static system.

Zito: I think that’s the type of reduction that comes when the enemy is so absurd. Otherwise, you have to acknowledge the futility of it all. It’s like the rich people who think injecting themselves with the blood of young people can reverse aging.

Graham: A healthy, young body replaces and recycles its cells as they fail. You could abstract that model, if you like, to humanity as a whole. Do we need the cycle of death to keep growing as a people? Not that there is, right now, much evidence of recent growth, but I think the general point still stands: Cantona seems to be treating elements of a system as analogous to the whole.

Zito: From The Iliad: “Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.”

Graham: That’s one of the Trojans fighting Dio[medes], right? Which translation?

Zito: That’s Glaucus to Dio in the 1999 Penguins Classics version.

Though I’m sympathetic to it, I find the search for immortality so amusing. It also reminds me of something I read from Simone de Beauvoir a while ago:

”Whether you think of it as heavenly or earthly, if you love life, immortality is no consolation for death.”

Though in that context, she was talking about immortal life after death.

Graham: Is there any version of the hunt for earthly immortality which isn’t a worn out old trope at this point? Not that I begrudge Cantona musing on it.

Zito: I don’t think so, simply because it seems to be central to every human struggle. Every fear that we have is a refashioned form of the initial fear of death.

Graham: Right. So I think the more interesting question is why Cantona brought it up at all. Even if the thinking behind the speech wasn’t original, the venue was startling. “I love football.”

Zito: I thought the “I love football” part was sudden. It seemed like as if it was supposed to to be an argument that football is one of the things that bring joy in the endless chaos of life, but came too soon.

Graham: So let’s maybe look at the speech line by line:

As flies to wanton boys, we are for the gods. They kill us for their sport.

Soon the science will not only be able to slow down the aging of the cells – soon the science will fix the cells to the state.

And so we will become eternal.

Only accidents, crimes, wars will still kill us, but unfortunately crimes and wars will multiply.

I love football. Thank you.

I don’t see anything about endless chaos, even obliquely. Cantona’s eternity is one of order. “Fix the cells to the state’ reminds me of butterflies pinned under glass.

Zito: Is it? After saying we would become eternal, he says that though aging won’t kill us, the things that still can, crimes and wars, will only multiply. Eternal life allows us to focus more on our self-imposed deaths.

Graham: So I think you can have a utopian vision and contrast it with your non-utopian ‘reality’. Cantona is painting a picture of a world in which everything is, if you like, crystallised. And then saying crimes and wars, which will multiply, are an impediment to that.

Zito: Then “I love football. Thank you.”

Graham: It makes me wish he’d had about three times as long to speak. He was only talking for about a minute.

Zito: It feels like there’s missing lines there, but he might have just needed a way to close the speech.

Graham: I also wonder how this would have been taken if it wasn’t Cantona talking.

“When the seagulls follow the trawler, it’s because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea.”

Zito: He has a reputation. Though it seems that the idea of him as a crazed eccentric has more to do with the sport not being used to someone who speaks like him, more than it does with what he says.

Graham: Right. I do like his quote about racists though: ”Because arguing with racist people is like playing chess with a pigeon: It doesn’t matter how good you are! The pigeon is going to knock all the pieces down and shit on the board and parade around like he’s won.”

Zito: He is a remarkable man, and if nothing else, I appreciate that he seems to live in a world of his own. A poetic man from Marseille, I never would have expected it.

Graham: I’m not even going to try to pretend that I can think of any poets whom I know are from Marseilles. Has Cantona talked about immortality before? I’m still curious as to why he’s talking about it now. Is he feeling old?

Zito: He has. In this interview, he begins the answer to the question of whether he still has ambition with, “I’m sure I will not die.”

“I’m not afraid of death, but I love so much life.”

Graham: And the same sort of themes: ‘we will find a solution’.

Zito: It’s a bit in contrast with him then saying that he’s not afraid of it.

Graham: It’s almost religious, but as faith in bioengineering instead.

Zito: Scientism, which promises the same eternal life that some religions do, but in this world rather than the next.

Graham: So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.

I find the epistles fairly boring but they’re also pretty quotable.

Zito: This is actually one of the most interesting things to me when it comes to trans-humanism movement. The effort to free ourselves from the human shell, because it’s a constant reminder of the finality of existence. So if we can transcend it, we can hopefully transcend death, through science. But that also comes from the reductive idea that the body and the spirit are separate and a human being can exist immortally without a body.

Graham: Can you imagine how boring that would get though?

Zito: You don’t want to transfer your mind into a computer?

Graham: Well, right now I do because I’m extremely tired and it would be cool being disembodied. Also, would computerised brains get bored?

Zito: I don’t see what would be exciting about being detached from the sensations of the body. In gaining immortality that way, it seems you lose what makes mortal life worthwhile to begin with.

Graham: Well, yes, but you’re a hedonist. That version of immortality is the conceit of the life of the mind taken to silly levels. Also, I’ve seen how people treat computers. Who would want to inhabit one?

Zito: I guess for some any existence is better than none at all.

Graham: Also “I don’t see what would be exciting about being detached from the sensations of the body” goes back to some concepts of heaven too.

Zito: That’s why my favorite circle of hell in the Divine Comedy is the seventh, or the second ring of the seventh. For what the punishment of turning the suicides into trees implies.

Graham: Is it the birds shitting on you?

Zito: That’s awful, but also the idea that the full person on judgment day brings the body and spirit together (except for those who have treated their bodies as if it was material to be discarded).

Graham: I love football.

[thenerdyunhealthybrit]

Klaroline FanFiction Recs

(NOTE: Updated on 29/03/2018 - Just factual information)

Hello everyone, so I decided to share with you my Fanfiction recommendations. Now I’m a harsh judge, on my FanFiction.net account, I rarely favourite fics, but these fics have wormed their way in, I find them so well written, they got me hooked and they do something rare - they make me want to reread it, despite knowing what will happen.

So I’m going to share my recommendations, what they are about, the pairings (because some are a no go) and share why I love them, If you know the author of any of the fics on Tumblr feel free to let me now so they can get the recognition on Tumblr as well. I’m aiming to build on it to include those drabbles and one-shots that are exclusively on Tumblr.

Always Only You by MysticManhattan | FanFiction.net AU/AH. Caroline is in a horrible car accident and goes into a coma. When she wakes up she thinks it's 2009, every memory from then to present has vanished. Will she choose to go down the same path that she chose before, or will she choose an entirely different one? And most importantly, will she ever get her memories back? Everyone is human! Chapters: 19 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last updated: 20 April 2014 Complete

I just love this FanFiction that after I read it I did what I usually did and moved on, but months later while reading other fics, this popped in my head and I remembered particular bits and how much I loved it, so I had to try and remember what it was called, reread it and still loved it. You can feel the chemistry in their relationship and it has the balance of plot and romance - although leaning more towards romance. My only complaint is that the ending to me felt slightly rushed, not awful, I just found myself wanting more, I wanted a prequel, more flashbacks and more of them rediscovering each other.

I Still Love You by AnnaTom23  | FanFiction.net AU/AH. Caroline has the perfect life. Trouble ensues when she realizes her loving Nik is a wanted crime lord along with her best friend Stefan. She loves him with all her heart but she can't stay with him knowing he is causing people so much pain. She has to run, if not for her sake then for the little one growing inside her. Even if she does run, it's not long before he finds her. Warning: It is a Dark Fic. Chapters: 22 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last updated: 17 November 2015 Complete

Now, I must stress I’m not big on Dark fics, especially in this case when it’s an AU/AH, this is simply because there is no supernatural element and I know the safe thing is for them to not be together and AnnaTom23 is a notorious fan of Dark Fics, however this is one of the more tamer ones. I knew that I should walk away but I couldn’t their was something intoxicating about there story and I reread it recently. This kind of fic reminded me of all those couples from those classic soaps like Dallas and Gossip Girl, that are well loved that have those unhealthy dynamic. It’s not abusive, but definitely shows possessiveness, there are some cute moments as well. But this fic also suffers from a rushed ending, I won’t spoil it but something big happens and then it kind of has an Epilogue, I would of liked more of an aftermath, are the Mikaelsons still in the same lifestyle etc.

Hot (Sauce) by honestgrins​ | FanFiction.net Caroline Forbes had been a kick-ass surgical resident with a gorgeous fiancé when she accepted an invitation to a boat party on the Gulf. The night ended in terror as the guests started attacking each other. When she woke on the beach the next morning, the relief she felt at surviving the ordeal was quickly replaced by an intense hunger for brains. An iZombie-KC fusion fic. Chapters: 4 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Katherine Pierce, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 14 January 2016 Complete

This is the my favourite fusion based on a show, especially when a Sci-Fi/Fantasy element is added, it loosely follows iZombie, I mean you can tell how each TVD character is in relation to the iZombie characters but they quickly go off on their own. Maybe I’m greedy, but again I wanted more. I’m aware that this was likely never intended to be anything long term but I wanted to see more of Caroline dealing with being a Zombie as well as the other characters, or even more of what they did after the fic ended. However I love their interpretation and spin on iZombie. So if you want something short but not a drabble then this is great.

The Madness Underneath by marvelouskatie | FanFiction.net Caroline is a psych student working as a sober companion in Chicago, hired by Elijah Mikaelson to assist his brother, Klaus, who is fresh out of rehab. For the next six weeks, she'll be with him 24/7 helping him to maintain a sober life. Caroline will soon discover Klaus is no ordinary client. AH/AU, based off Elementary/Sherlock Holmes. Do not have to be a fan of Holmes to read! Chapters: 32 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 22 April 2016 Complete

I won’t say much about this one and it is not an insult to the author, it’s because I believe that it’s a popular one with readers or many are familiar with it, but what I love about this is that it creates the right balance of romance and plot, it not overpowering that it’s just full one smut, although I’m guilty of liking that but the plot isn’t too much that the relationship is no existence. There is development, also wouldn’t a continuation of that little sequel you wrote. But again, this just worked for me.

Heroes Never Die by Angelikah | thetourguidebarbie  | FanFiction.net Doctor Caroline Forbes devoted her life to protecting the innocent, but fell in love with the darkest parts of a man who was anything but. After a terrible accident, her only chance to save him was to take a risk with an experimental healing treatment, which went horribly wrong. All she can do now is look back on what they'd had and hope that someday he'd forgive her. Based off Overwatch. Chapters: 2 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 11 January 2017 Complete

I’ve never read Fanfics based on games, even when it has my OTP in their place, however I gave it a go because it’s Overwatch. Now I’m not going to go all fake gamer girl and claim that I’m a fan of it. My knowledge is based on watching people playing on Twitch, but I’m familiar with some of the voice actors from Overwatch (some of my fellow Hoomans). This game is on my to-do list. However, you do not need prior knowledge of the game to be able to read this, and god it is so good. I just love the reversal of roles because often Klaus would be made as the character that would go to the ends of the earth to save Caroline, so it’s nice to see it be Caroline and Caroline doesn’t come off as weak or some anti-feminist rubbish about how she can’t live without a man, this is a woman in love with a guy. This is a perfect two-shot, and I wouldn’t mind more, however I’m perfectly content with this. It is also a good example of a dystopian future fic that doesn’t lose it way and the world doesn’t suddenly get fixed or healed.

Picturesque by lil7miss7sarcastic | Fanfiction.net She doesn't talk to Klaus about feelings. Ever. Or at least when she's sober. Sure, there are times when their friends pass out and the two of them lie on the rooftop, looking at the stars, and talk. But some form of intoxication is always involved. AU/AH Klaroline (with slight Steroline) and the gang as Friends in New York City. Chapters: 7 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 17 February 2018 Complete

This fanfic is kind of a HIMYM/Friends hybrid and it’s so good. None of these characters are actually directly based on the originals from the shows, it’s still the Klaroline you love. Now, when the author says slight SC, they mean it, they don’t date and they aren’t in a relationship at all. But this is great and I love the Klaroline dynamic and they finally finished this fic, two years later. My new complaint, which I shared with them, was that the ending does feel rushed, maybe it’s because I experienced the hiatus itself, but I feel like you can tell between Chapters 6 and 7, there is kind of a different tone to the last chapter than the rest. But I do understand writers block as well as losing the passion to writer for a ship or another passion overtakes the old one. But this is still a very enjoyable fic. It’s good for those who want to read something that’s long and a continuation as opposed to a one-shot, but also it’s not too long that you are spending time away from interacting with actual people face to face reading it.

I Have a Bad Case of Loving You by LitLover 101 | queenofthedramedies​ | FanFiction.net These would be the greatest years of her life. After seven years Hayley Marshall would officially be a doctor. Unfortunately, until then she had to deal with the rigors of her internship and residency with a colorful group of fellow interns and a one night stand who turns out to be her boss. What could wrong? Chapters: 24 Characters: Hayley Marshall, Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes, Tyler Lockwood, Joshua Rosza, Bonnie Bennett, Freya Mikaelson Ships: Halijah, Klaroline (planning a reread, more to be added) Last Updated: 15 April 2017 Complete

Okay, bare with me folks! I know some might not be a big fan of Klaroline not being the main ship in a fic or are not a big fan of Hayley or Halijah, but this Grey’s Anatomy style fic is a current favourite of mine. For starters, Hayley is likable in this and not in the way where TO sometimes comes off as trying too hard to do that or  is OP. She even has some of Meredith Grey’s qualities in the fic, but for me I love the Cayley friendship, it’s a crackship of mine. But this is a rare fic for me where they have characters from TO and TVD but none of them (so far have been portrayed negatively, or biased negative), even characters that you don’t like appear but you don’t care because they are either made likable or only appear briefly in the background, a 2D character. But the Klaroline relationship is written so well, it doesn’t suffer because the primary ship is Halijah. It is like Grey’s in which Hayley is the lead but the ensemble cast do have their own storylines. My only complaint with this - which I shared with the author was about how the storylines of the other characters has missing gaps in because the story is written from Hayley’s POV so one sec you have two characters arguing, a chapter later they made up off screen. So it jumps with the secondary characters storylines, but she has made it up to us with a tie-in fic that is currently in production/progress.

Somewhere Only We Know by LitLover 101 | queenofthedramedies​ | FanFiction.net Tie-in stories to I Have a Bad Case of Loving You: follow the lives, loves, losses and triumphs of the interns, residents and attendees at New Orleans Grace Hospital. Chapters: 3  Characters: Rebekah Mikaelson, Tyler Lockwood, Joshua Rosza, Jackson Kenner, Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline, TBA (A lot is being kept as a surprise, I think) Last Updated: 24 June 2017 Ongoing

This is the tie-in that I mentioned in the comment of the previous fic. This is only one chapter in but this delves into the secondary characters and fills in those blanks and gaps that don’t completely make sense in the original fic or left you wanting an explanation. I won’t hype it up because we haven’t been giving enough yet but it is promising. One thing that the author is good at is making us care about these secondary characters, like Tyler is a bit of a fuckboy, not a negative portrayal but I still like him, he’s harmless. My hope is once it’s completed that someone (probably me) will re-edit the fic (for personal rereading purposes) so it can include the scenes from this fic in where they take place in the original one. This is being written co-currently with the sequel to the original fic. Again, I want to express my gratitude to the author for taking their time to write this tie-in because it probably wasn’t their intention and they are upping their workload just for us measly fans.

Rumor Has It by LitLover101 | queenofthedramedies | FanFiction.net Continuation of I Have a Bad Case of Loving You: Tales of failed boards, broken hearts, healing wounds, love, loss, friendship, family and resilience bring us back to the New Orleans Hospital. Oh, and, don't forget the new crop of interns. Things are about to heat up in this hospital. Chapters: 7 Characters: Hayley Marshall, Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson, Davina Claire, Caroline Forbes, Rebekah Mikaelson, Tyler Lockwood, Joshua Rosza, Bonnie Bennett, Freya Mikaelson, Aurora De Martel, Lucian Castle, Freya Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Halijah, Klaroline (more to be added as revealed, I believe some are kept as a surprise) Last Updated: 31 January 2018 Ongoing

I won’t go into much because it is just chapter 1 but it is the sequel and I’m already loving it, it provides answers to the cliffhanger left at the end of the original fic - think of it as the cliffhanger to season 1 and this is season two. But this provides so many more questions, thanks to a 6 month time jump from the last fic to now. Now don’t quote me on this but if you’re worried that the secondary character and ships to Halijah might not get screentime or we will suffer from gaps due to it being from Hayley’s POV don’t worry, I think the author said that it will delve in a bit from other characters POVs and their storylines but Hayley and Halijah will still be the focus. Hayley is the Meredith of this TVD/TO Grey’s story.

Those are my current favourites, thanks for taking your time to read them. Sorry I might of gone overboard.

#the vampire diaries #tvd #klaroline #Klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #fanfic #fanfiction #reccomendations #fanfic recs #TheNerdyUnhealthyBrit #TheNerdyUnhealthyBrit recommends Klaroline

[thestoriesofaslightlycrazywriter]

The Knife of Memory

No one was home. No one ever was. The old house was always cold, no matter what time of year it was, and Cass shivered as she stepped inside and closed the door. It was also silent, and it made her sad to know she was the only living thing inside. Her parents never seemed to be there. They were always off on business trips or partying, and they never had time for her. “They probably don’t even know it’s my senior year,” Cass said aloud. She’d made a habit of talking out loud to herself. She was the only person she ever had good conversations with. She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the kitchen, looking down as she passed the large mirror her mother had placed in the hall. She hated that mirror. She didn’t know why; she just did. There was something about it that made her feel ill at ease, and that was a feeling she detested. The fridge was wide open when she got to the kitchen. She frowned. “Who left this open?” she asked, rolling her eyes. She closed it with a sigh. “This has probably been like this all day.” She opened a cabinet next to the fridge, reached in, and pulled out a chocolate bar. She unwrapped it and took a bite, then slid down to the floor to cry. The loneliness was too much. “I don’t have any friends, my parents are never here, and everyone hates me.” She bit into the chocolate viciously, chewed it, and swallowed it. “No one cares about me. No one cares.” The statement made her cry harder. She didn’t bother to wipe away the stream of tears traveling down her face. Why would she? It was useless, just like everything. Pointless. “Pointless. I’m pointless. Everything is pointless.” She threw the half-eaten chocolate across the room and stood up. “Just pointless and alone. And no one cares.” She grabbed a knife from the knife block on the counter and brought it up to her face. She examined the blade. It was sharp and silver, and in her mind, she could see her blood on it, her body on the floor. By the time her body was found, lifeless and cold, on the marble kitchen floor, it would be starting to rot, and the pool of blood that would be surrounding her would be starting to congeal into a disgusting jello, or it would have spread across the floor, staining the white to rust. She stopped crying, wiped the tears off her face, and held the knife towards her heart. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Cass whipped around to face the speaker, the knife now pointed away from her. A man stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He looked to be twenty or twenty-five and he wore an all black suit with a striped tie, and he was so pale his skin was almost white. His hair was messy and a bright green. “Who are you?” Cass asked, pointing her knife at him. “A very annoyed person.” He sighed and shook his head. “Why do I always meet them this way?” He took a step towards her. “Don’t move any closer or I’ll stab you.” Cass swallowed hard. “Who are you?” “My name’s Michael,” he said with another sigh. “And I don’t see why you’d be worried about me hurting you. You were about to off yourself, after all.” “How did you get in here, Micheal?” He walked towards her until he was at the end of her knife. “You summoned me.” “I didn’t ‘summon’ anyone.” She scowled at him and adjusted her grip. “Get out or else.” “Oy.” He held out a hand an reached towards her. “I-” Cass lunged for him, her knife an arc of silver light. She fell right through him and landed hard, the knife skittering and sliding across the floor. “Now you’ve gone and done it.” Micheal sighed. Cass got to her knees and looked up at him, her eyes blazing. She grabbed for his leg, but her hand went right through him. Her eyes went wide. Micheal snapped his fingers and the knife disappeared and reappeared in its block. Cass blinked. “Are you a-” she began. “Ghost? Yes, I am.” Micheal cut her off. “And now I’m bound to you.” He frowned. “And no, I’m most definitely not happy about it.” Cass stood up. “What do you mean bound?” she asked, giving Micheal a glare that would’ve killed him if he hadn’t been dead already. “I’m not happy about it either!” He crossed his arms. “Look, you just tried to kill yourself. I was cursed to attempt to stop suicides that met with certain conditions, which yours did, which means you summoned me, and let me tell you, I was right in the middle of something when you did it!” “How long is this going to last?” “I can’t believe that you’re not shocked that you’re talking to a ghost.” Cass gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’m just happy to be talking to anyone. And why would I? I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I didn’t not believe in them either.” “Well, just be happy you didn’t run into any of my fellow ghosts. Not many of them are as nice as me.” She shook her head. “Can I make you go away?” “Sure, say my name three times,” he said. The sarcasm was thick in his voice. “No, unless you summon me, I’m a free man.” “I just did, apparently. So how do I release you and re-summon you? Attempt suicide again?” She gave him a crooked grin. Micheal rolled his eyes. “Just say ‘1988’ three times. That’s the year I died, and as I’m the only ghost bound to you, I’m the only one who’ll come. And to release me, say ‘1968’ three times. Year I was born.” “Well, I can live with that.” Cass smiled. “Welcome to my life, Micheal.”

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BOOM! Cass woke with a start. She rolled off the couch where she’d fallen asleep, groggy and confused. She walked over to the window, stumbling over something on the floor in the process. She picked it up, and realized that it was dark, and she couldn’t see whatever it was. She got to the window and pulled the curtains back. It was a dark and stormy night. Rain pelted the windowpanes and more thunder boomed in the distance. Cass sighed and fumbled along the wall until she found the light switch. She flicked it on and glanced down at the thing in her hand. It was a box of cream puffs, or rather, it had been a box of cream puffs. There weren’t any left. “I didn’t eat these. At least I don’t think I did,” she mused aloud with a frown. “Oh, sorry, that was me, “ said a voice from the ceiling. The ghost was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He lay there, lounging on his back just below the ceiling. Cass was certain he was about to right through it, but he didn’t. “So that wasn’t a nightmare that I had earlier?” she said. “Nope,” Micheal replied, shoving the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “Mhm’mh welhm to scahmm.” “What?” She frowned at him. “I said, ‘You’re welcome to scream.’” He floated down from the ceiling until he was standing in front of her. He was at least six inches taller than she was. Cass glanced at his feet, but his feet were on the floor. She looked back up at his face. “I’m not going to scream, Micheal.” “I’m a ghost. I’m scary. Boo!” His face turned into a mass of writhing snakes. Cass took a step backward and tripped over something behind her. Micheal’s face went back to normal, except for his impish grin. “That was a lame parlor trick,” she said. She stood up, and  hoped he wouldn’t notice that she was blushing. “That’s what they always say.” He laughed. “When are your parents getting home?” Cass shrugged. “Probably not ‘til Saturday at the earliest. At the latest, sometime next week.” “Ooh, I’m all alone with a pretty girl,” he crowed. Cass gave him a death stare. “You try anything, mister, and I will make you wish that you were a groveling worm.” “Ooh, scary.” He wiggled his eyebrows and began floating next to her. “So, if we’re not going to have fun, what are we going to do?” “Get the salt,” Cass said. Micheal’s demeanor changed instantly. “No salt, please.” He gave her huge puppy dog eyes, and for the first time, Cass noticed that his eyes were an intense violet. They were quite… Interesting. She shook her head at the thought. He was a ghost, for crying out loud. He was dead! She shook it again. “Please?” Micheal, misinterpreting her movements, whined. “Does it actually work?” He nodded. “Fine. Though I might put it around my bed.” She frowned. He grinned. “I suppose that’s reasonable. After all-” “Shut it.” Cass rolled her eyes. “Apparently teenage boys are no different, dead or alive.” “Technically I’m not a ‘teenage boy’ any more. I’ve been dead for thirty-one years.” “Well, you stop aging when you die, and obviously your brain didn’t mature much past seventeen.” Micheal gave a dramatic sigh. “We only met a few hours ago, and already you’re insulting me.” She shrugged and headed towards the staircase. “I’m going up stairs,” she said. She set her foot on the first stair. It creaked loudly, and she grimaced. “That’s loud enough to wake the dead!” Micheal grinned. “Is the entire staircase that creaky?” Cass dashed halfway up the staircase, setting off an entire orchestra of creaks. She stopped for breath. “What da ya think?” He grinned. “Let’s try my way,” he said. He grabbed her by the waist and began to float. “Hey! Put me-” Cass cut herself off, too surprised to protest anymore. She was floating through the floor and the air and through the closed door to her room. Micheal deposited her on the bed, where she landed with a soft squeak from the bedsprings. She was silent, still surprised. “Well?” Micheal said. He floated right in front of her. He was on his side, his head propped up on one arm and the other arm followed the curve of his body. Cass blinked. “I was floating.” “Yup.” She grinned. “That was fun.” “I like it myself.” She rolled her eyes and stood up. “It’s dark in here.” Micheal snapped his fingers and the light came on. “Thanks.” She stretched and yawned. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Coming right up.” Micheal snapped his fingers again and a bowl of Halloween-themed candies appeared in her arms. “What happens if I eat this?” Cass asked. She picked up a piece and eyed it suspiciously. “Nothing, except you might gain some weight. It’s not fairy food and this isn’t the underworld.” Micheal smiled. “Though I wouldn’t mind having you bound to me forever.” She gave him another glare and wrapped the candy. She popped it into her mouth. It was chocolate, but it had a slightly different under-flavor that she’d never tasted before. It melted perfectly on her tongue, spreading its flavor throughout her entire mouth. She sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying it. “Well?” She opened her eyes. “This is the best chocolate ever,” she said right to his face. He’d moved so that his face was mere inches away from hers, so that the first thing she saw when she opened them were his violet eyes. They really were beautiful. She stared into them until she saw a flicker of amusement flash through them, though it only made them look even more beautiful. She glanced at the floor and blushed. Micheal grinned, but said nothing. “Sorry,” Cass mumbled, turning away. “Don’t be.” He grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him. “Don’t be.” She pulled away from him. “I’m sorry,” Micheal said. She looked over her shoulder with a grin and imitated Micheal’s voice. “Don’t be,” she said. “Haha.” Cass yawned and glanced at the clock on her wall. It was only eight o’clock in the evening. She wasn’t tired and she didn’t want to go to bed, but she didn’t know what to do. Tomorrow was Saturday, so she could stay up as long as she liked. “What do ghosts do when they’re bored?” she asked Micheal. He grinned. “Haunt!” “Who?” “Anyone.” “Anyone?” A smile spread across her face. “Are you sure?” “Well, I can’t haunt you, because I kind of already am.” Cass sighed and glanced at the wall, then frowned. “I hate this room,��� she said. “I need to redecorate.” Micheal arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with yellow wallpaper?” “It makes me a bit uneasy, and I don’t like the color.” He laughed. “Have you actually read the story?” “Yes. I enjoyed it. The reason it makes me uneasy is something entirely unrelated.” She turned away from him. “What is i-” At that moment an ominous ding-dong sounded from somewhere downstairs.

____________

Cass stared at the front door. No one ever came to the house, and certainly no one would ever come this late at night while a huge thunderstorm was going on. The doorbell sounded again, and a boom of thunder accentuated it. “Micheal?” she whispered. He wasn’t there. Diiiiinnnnggg-doooooooooonnnnngggg. She swallowed and opened the door. No one was there. Cass sighed and began to close the door. “Wait!” a voice from the open doorway wailed. Cass gasped and stared at the apparition in the door. “Sorry,” it said. It stepped into the light. It was a soaked young woman, who didn’t look the least bit scary any more. She wore a business suit, and held a pair of high heels in her hand. Her face looked familiar. “You startled me,” Cass said with a laugh. “Come in out of the rain, please.” “Thank you.” The young woman stepped into the house. “My name is Ann. My car broke down a few miles from here, and I couldn’t get any cell service.” “It’s probably because of the storm.” Cass smiled. “You can stay the night, if you need to. Let me get you some dry clothes. I’m Cass, by the way.” “Oh, thank you.” Ann smiled. “I’ll wait here.” Cass turned a corner and ran until she was out of her guest’s hearing range. Then she sat on the floor and swallowed slowly. “Cass?” She glanced up at Micheal. “What is she?” “Who?” “That woman in my hallway.” “So it’s not just me.” He frowned. “I don’t know, but I don’t like her.” Cass stood up and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a knife out of the block and stuck it into her garter strap, grabbed a small container of salt and put it in her pocket. She slipped into the laundry room, grabbed a little black dress and a towel and headed back to the hallway. Ann was still there. Cass smiled at her. “Here you go,” she said, handing the woman the towel and dress. “There’s a bathroom on your right down the hall. I’m going to get a room ready for you.” “You’re too kind,” Ann replied. A grateful smile spread across her face. Cass shrugged. “No prob!” As soon as Ann, left she turned to Micheal. “She’s a supernatural creature, isn’t she?” she asked. Micheal shrugged. “Salt the bathroom door.” “There’s gotta be a more subtle way to test.” Cass frowned. “Can you eat salt?” “No. Can’t go near it.” “What about haunted ships?” “Those ghosts are different. Do you have anything salty?” “Plenty of things.” She stood there, a small frown on her face, an idea spreading in her head. She moved down the hallway past the mirror. Something made her back up and look into it. She wore a small black dress with black lace accents and sleeves, black thigh-highs, and black combat boots. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed a shade of blue that was so dark it appeared black, and was held away from her face with a black head band. She wore bluish-black lipstick and eyeshadow. Her blue eyes glinted. Even if “Ann’s” car had broken down and she was relieved to find a house out in the middle of nowhere, she should’ve showed some surprise at Cass’s appearance, if not alarm. Everyone did, no matter the circumstances, at least at first. Except Micheal and Ann. It would make sense that something supernatural wouldn’t be fazed by her goth appearance. No one’s appearance would bother them. Cass snapped back to reality when her reflection grinned at her. She hadn’t smiled. Her body went cold and she stepped away from the mirror. Fear flooded her brain, but she tried to shove it down. “Micheal?” “Um, Cass?” He sounded unsure, and a little wary. “Yes?” “I think you might want to take a glance down the hall.” The girl at the other end had a huge stab wound in her chest. Blood poured from it and spattered on the hall floor. She had a bloody kitchen knife in her hand and a malevolent grin plastered on her face. That wasn’t the alarming part though. She looked exactly like Cass. Cass swallowed. She wanted to scream, but she held it back. Panicking was the wrong thing to do, and she knew it. She glanced at the mirror and gasped, now too afraid to scream. The reflection in the mirror was now that of the girl down the hall, and it was climbing out of the mirror. “Oh my god,” she whispered, backing away. “Cass…” Micheal trailed off. “Oh, crap.” The girls began to advance on Cass, who stood against the wall, paralyzed. A boom of thunder rattled the house. The lights flickered and went out. Cass heard someone scream. And then realized it was her own.

_____________

She couldn’t see anything, but she turned and ran for the living room and stairs, blind panic flooding through her. She screamed again. Something glowed faintly in front of her. “Stop!” it yelled. She stopped and stared at Micheal. “Never panic,” he said. “They probably feed off it.” Cass took a deep breath. “W-where are t-t-they?” She wanted to hide the fear in voice, but couldn’t. “Still in the hall.” Cass sniffed. Something smelled strange, but not in a bad way. It was hot, fresh, wet, and alive, and rusty. “What’s that smell?” she asked. Whatever it was, it steadied her nerves. Micheal’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to say something, but the words never left her lips. “Blood,” a voice over her shoulder whispered. Her bleeding clones stood right behind her, the same malevolent grin on their faces, their knives glinting sharply in the glow they produced. Cass stumbled backwards. They moved towards her. “Micheal?” Cass whispered. The ghost moved in front of her so that he stood between her and the others. “Ann?” he said. Both girls laughed. “What kind of creature are you?” Cass cowered behind him as they waited for an answer. They laughed again. Something cold touched Cass from behind. She shrieked and whirled to stare back into another copy of her face. She screamed. Micheal grabbed her and floated upward. They land in her room. Her night light, a small coffin, glowed brightly next to her mirror. Cass sat on the bed. Her breathing was hard and uneven. Something laughed. “Micheal? W-w-was that you?” “No.” He floated down next to her. “Oh. My. God.” She stared at the mirror, at the thing emerging from it. A girl with her face, with a bleeding chest, with a bloody knife. And suddenly the room was full of them. Cass stared, her eyes wild with fear. Fear. She was sinking into a black pit of it and she realized that her body was trembling. “Don’t touch her!” Micheal said. His voice was calm and firm. The girl closest to them stabbed him the chest. He gasped and fell backwards, hands held to the wound. “We can’t kill you.” They said it in unison, glee in their voices. “But we can send you back for a while.” “NO!” Micheal screamed. He disappeared in a flash of mist. The entire room cackled and turned their attention to the trembling girl on the bed. “Leave me alone!” Cass yelled. Her twisted reflections merged themselves into one. “I thought you wanted me,” the girl said with a pout. Cass sat up straighter. She was still panicking internally, but she rallied outwardly, hoping that showing a spine might save her. “Who are you?” The girl walked over to the bed and pushed Cass down. Cass gasped. The girl grinned and raised her knife. She tried to struggle, but it was no use. The girl held Cass down tight. “Your demon,” the girl replied. The knife plunged into Cass’s chest and everything went black.

____________

She couldn’t see anything, but she turned and ran for the living room and stairs, blind panic flooding through her. She screamed again. Something glowed faintly in front of her. “Stop!” it yelled. She stopped and stared at Micheal. “Never panic,” he said. “They probably feed off it.” Cass took a deep breath. “W-where are t-t-they?” She wanted to hide the fear in voice, but couldn’t. “Still in the hall.” Cass sniffed. Something smelled strange, but not in a bad way. It was hot, fresh, wet, and alive, and rusty. “What’s that smell?” she asked. Whatever it was, it steadied her nerves. Micheal’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to say something, but the words never left her lips. “Blood,” a voice over her shoulder whispered. Her bleeding clones stood right behind her, the same malevolent grin on their faces, their knives glinting sharply in the glow they produced. Cass stumbled backwards. They moved towards her. “Micheal?” Cass whispered. The ghost moved in front of her so that he stood between her and the others. “Ann?” he said. Both girls laughed. “What kind of creature are you?” Cass cowered behind him as they waited for an answer. They laughed again. Something cold touched Cass from behind. She shrieked and whirled to stare back into another copy of her face. She screamed. Micheal grabbed her and floated upward. They land in her room. Her night light, a small coffin, glowed brightly next to her mirror. Cass sat on the bed. Her breathing was hard and uneven. Something laughed. “Micheal? W-w-was that you?” “No.” He floated down next to her. “Oh. My. God.” She stared at the mirror, at the thing emerging from it. A girl with her face, with a bleeding chest, with a bloody knife. And suddenly the room was full of them. Cass stared, her eyes wild with fear. Fear. She was sinking into a black pit of it and she realized that her body was trembling. “Don’t touch her!” Micheal said. His voice was calm and firm. The girl closest to them stabbed him the chest. He gasped and fell backwards, hands held to the wound. “We can’t kill you.” They said it in unison, glee in their voices. “But we can send you back for a while.” “NO!” Micheal screamed. He disappeared in a flash of mist. The entire room cackled and turned their attention to the trembling girl on the bed. “Leave me alone!” Cass yelled. Her twisted reflections merged themselves into one. “I thought you wanted me,” the girl said with a pout. Cass sat up straighter. She was still panicking internally, but she rallied outwardly, hoping that showing a spine might save her. “Who are you?” The girl walked over to the bed and pushed Cass down. Cass gasped. The girl grinned and raised her knife. She tried to struggle, but it was no use. The girl held Cass down tight. “Your demon,” the girl replied. The knife plunged into Cass’s chest and everything went black.

#short story #ghost story #ghost short story #horror #horror short #horror short story #im tagging this wrong #but oh well #nightmare story