#local middle schooler attempts to avoid his feelings
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Another one ☝️
#yugioh#yugioh vrains#yugioh gx#yugioh 5ds#akiza please you two are in public 🙏#roboppi#yusei fudo#akiza izinski#akiza izayoi#yusaku fujiki#zane truesdale#ryo marufuji#tyranno hassleberry#jaden yuki#judai yuki#ryoga kamishiro#reginald kastle#yugioh zexal#local middle schooler attempts to avoid his feelings#backfired immensely
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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au yangyang
happy birthday even if its a little late! ~ tw: mention of breakups
find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin
the door opens as soon as the hand on the clock that hangs right above the line of freezers at the back of the store strikes eight
through it walks yangyang
grey hoodie pulled over his messy hair, stuck to the skin of his forehead with slowly evaporating sweat
he’s dribbling a basketball as he walks down the aisles and you pretend to rearrange the candy display in front of the register
but you’re watching
the sound of the basketball thumps through the otherwise empty corner store
outside, the sun is waving its last goodbye before the moon takes it spot in the sky
and then yangyang rounds his way back to you - placing some loose change down and waving the already unwrapped melon pop he’s picked out
you count the coins, and he’s ten cents short, but you don’t say anything about that
he turns, basketball now tucked under his arm
and leaves without a thank you or a goodbye
you know him - and you’re sure he knows you too - but it has been the same silent routine since summer started two weeks ago
the reason - and it could just be your suspicion - but no other fact has reared its head as creditable
has to do with dong sicheng
yangyang’s upperclassman, friend, and your ex-boyfriend
you lean forward a little and huff, not even really my ex-boyfriend. we fooled around all of last semester and then-
you feel something weird curl up inside your stomach
sicheng had called it off
you remember what he had said to you;
“maybe if you weren’t always looking at -”
the door opens again and your eyes barely shift to see who it is now
only to see yangyang again, melon pop abandoned, grey hoodie abandoned, basketball abandoned
he buffers a bit before walking right up to the register
you straighten up and feel like the little store has only gotten tighter
he slaps the ten cents he was short down on the counter and you blink
“i owe you this.”
“oh thanks.”
“sicheng isn’t here for the summer. he went abroad.”
you blink, and your instinct is to say - why would i care? - but you just nod slowly
yangyang steps back a little. he’s still got remnants of sweat on him from the summer heat, his hands tucked deep in his pockets
“did you like him?”
“no”
you answer a little too fast for comfort, but there just isn’t enough time to stop yourself from spilling the truth. something you’ve wanted to say for a while.
yangyang is looking at the floor, or maybe the candy, who knows - but he looks up after that.
“he said you were always -”
“looking at you. i know.”
yangyang seems to catch his breath, or maybe he just looks like he’s being suffocated, but either way he points to the sign on the door
“you close in an hour right?”
“yes”
“ill be here. we can - ill be waiting for you.”
even with the streetlights flickering, the night hovering into complete darkness, the heat makes everything feel vibrant and hot
or maybe you just feel all this pressure, finally being alone with yangyang
you’ve changed, you’ve attempted to comb your hair, you’re holding the half finished bottle of gatorade that is acting like some kind of pseudo-anchor as you wait to hear what it is yangyang will say
does he know? did he notice? or did sicheng just tell him for the hell of it that ive always actually liked him?
“i was looking too, that’s why i was so confused.”
he kicks the curb a little and avoids your gaze
“why you chose him - why you were sneaking around and doing all of that with him when i was-”
he throws his hands up in frustration
“when i was there too!”
“i just didn’t think you felt the same way.”
“you think i didnt like you back?”
you cross your hands and nod
“yeah, you never did anything to make me think you -”
“neither did you, you actually did the opposite, hooking up with one of my closest friends-”
“hey!”
you don’t want to raise your voice, but it makes yangyang look at you. really look at you.
“is it a crime to want to be desired? i couldnt get the feeling from you and sicheng just kissed me one day and it felt-”
yangyang steps closer, both hands reaching for your shoulders as if he’s about to pull you in close to him
but just as his fingers graze your skin, you can feel the tension stiffen him into stone
you flatline your voice and stare, “yangyang if you’re going to kiss me then just do it”
he opens his mouth in protest, at least that’s what he intentions, when in the next second
it’s you, dropping the gatorade in your hand, and just tugging him in for it first
he doesn’t kiss with the overwhelming confidence he can saunter around with when he’s with his friends, but he is enthusiastic
it kind of shocks you when after just a soft peck on the lips turns into yangyang wrapping you in almost squeezing hug
he kisses as if he’s trying to make up for something
you chalk it up to the time you’ve both waisted tip-toeing around each others feelings
and when you pull away from him, you realize he’s nearly dragged you off the curb and into the sidewalk with him and you’re like
“let’s get out of the street before we get hit by a car.”
he grins, the brightest light even in the darkness
“wait- just one thing though.”
his hands don’t let go from being wrapped around your waist, his bare skin sticking to the fabric of your shirt. how many degrees is it out? at least eighty something.
“what?”
“do i kiss better than sicheng-”
you yank him back onto the sidewalk and roll your eyes in response, yangyang just leans down to laugh into your neck
you’ve still got to work at the shop all summer, but now yangyang doesn’t just stop by at just eight
he’s there as much as possible
sitting on boxes of soda and chips - hand on your leg as you two watch the array of interesting neighbors and customers that pass their way through
there’s a nice old couple that beams at you and yangyang, talking about how much you two remind them of themselves
there’s a social recluse that scurries up and down the aisles even though he always buys the same two things every time he’s in here. yangyang theorizes he’s a spy or something and you’re like im pretty sure he works for an IT company
there are giggling groups of middle schoolers enjoying the summer, there are teenagers who spend more time kissing in the corners rather than buying anything, there are adults rushing to and from work
sometimes yangyang’s friends stop by, the ones he plays basketball with, and they wolf whistle and wink and push him when they think you’re not looking
but now kun - who apologizes to you every time for their CHILDISH behavior
the summer that you thought would be dragging slowly because of this dumb job, has become something like a rainbow.
colorful, eventful, and beautiful
especially when you’re sitting up on the register counter and yangyang is leaning up to kiss you
lips cold from the ice-cream you both just shared
he’s gotten better at kissing, and at hand-holding, and staring at you like you’re the entire earth and more
he leaves for a couple of hours to go play basketball - and one evening you close the shop early to go watch him
he looks so different from the yangyang that makes bad jokes, the yangyang who chases the local stray cat around your store, the yangyang who is still a little too shy about coming over to your house when you’re both alone, the yangyang who fell out of a tree trying to get a stuck balloon untangled for a crying toddler
he looks serious and focused - he looks more mature
when the set ends he jogs over, lifting his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face and you realize you’re also still a little shy, averting your eyes to the side
he doesn’t notice, if he did - you would not hear the end of it - as he leans forward to kiss your nose
you pull back and tell him ew- he’s so sweaty and smelly - but he just pouts and says thats never bothered you before!
“yeah, it’s never bothered you before so you guys should just make out-”
hendery’s voice echoes from somewhere before you presume kun puts a stop to that
yangyang raises an eyebrow
and you give in - leaning in to press your lips to him
“salty?” he asks when he pulls away, “very!”, you laugh and yangyang joins in
“oh sicheng you’re back?”
the sentence drowns you and yangyang’s momentary bliss
you don’t want to turn around and see if it’s really him - but yangyang leans away from you so you stand up too
“how was your trip?” it’s kun’s voice - followed by yukhei who exclaims that he’s missed him so much!
sicheng answers them, looking over his shoulder at you and yangyang
the sounds of the park all wash out - you don’t feel anything romantic toward sicheng, but this is still awkward and you’re more than anything worried about-
“yangyang - can i be on your team?”
sicheng is referring to the next game and you want to say something to yangyang about how it’s really all over, like it didn’t ever even mean anything
but then sicheng looks at you
“can i steal your boyfriend away for a bit?”
the playful banter sizzles the tension down and you feel yourself relax, and yangyang does too
“sure bro, but you better have gotten good during your trip - your freethrows always suck!”
sicheng laughs and you do too, kissing yangyang’s cheek before he goes back to join his friends
when it gets too dark to play anymore and everyone’s exhausted - yangyang and you part from the group
hendery tries to yell something about kids being safe, kun drags him away by the ear, xiaojun, yukhei and ten echo the sentiment anyway and sicheng says;
“im happy for you guys.”
you feel yangyang squeeze your hand in his - when it’s just you and him left
you shiver a little because summer is ending and falls kiss is sweeping in
yangyang shrugs off the grey hoodie he’s always wearing and you slip it on before taking his hand in yours again
“was it weird seeing sicheng again?”
“not really - i mean it’s just sicheng.”
you stop walking and yangyang does too
“he’s your friend and he’s just my friend. seriously. yangyang i want you to know that.”
he smiles softly, not the big toothy grin you’re used to, and tugs you a little into him
“i know that.”
he kisses your hair and then laughs
“if it was me, you would have jumped right into my arm-”
“yangyang!”
you give him a look and he swears he’s joking, he promises
but he’s also right
years later - as you’re standing in the airport looking up at the switchboard of flights
you light up when you see that the plane from taiwan is landing
you rush to the gate and wave as soon as you sicheng
he waves back, and so does kun and ten and everyone
and holding up the end is yangyang who abandons his luggage, to come barreling toward you
you can’t hold it too, it’s been all summer that he and the rest of them have been gone
and it’s been so boring without him, and so lonely, so when he opens his arms
you do jump right into them - getting attacked in a whirlwind of kisses
the rest of the group catches up to you two and from somewhere you can hear kun mutter
“they’re acting like kids”
but sicheng defends you two
“let them, they’ve been looking at each other since then.”
when yangyang finally decides to let you go, he adds:
“yep, and we haven’t stopped since.”
#i started this listening to still woozy and then ended it by listening to jbalvin thats how my night was going#nct scenarios#wayv scenarios#yangyang scenarios#nct au#wayv au#yangyang au#member: yangyang#sfw#yangyang#wayv#nct
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I Watched the First Episode of Every New Spring 2021 Anime Airing on Crunchyroll
Hey, are you like me, and feeling like you're not getting the most out of your Crunchyroll subscription? Sure, there's stuff on there that you know you like. But whenever I look at the big long list of simulcasting shows, my eyes glaze over and I don't even know where to begin.
I wanted to change my habits and see if there were any shining gems that I should be watching. So, as per the title, I watched the first episode of every new Spring 2021 anime on Crunchyroll. And guess what? There’s a lot of crap! But indeed, there’s some stuff that’s worth your time.
Some clarification: I've only watched shows that began their first season in April 2021.
Backflip!!
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The Lowdown
As Futaba Shotaro comes to the end of middle school, his interest in baseball has begun to wane. Soon he notices the Ao High Boys Gymnastic Club and becomes enthralled, especially after seeing them perform. Once he learns they're down two members, he chooses to sign up and pursue the art of gymnastics. The club is also joined by Misato Ryoya, a star solo gymnast looking to expand his technique through teamwork.
Our Thoughts
Pretty formulaic shoujo sports anime: you've got your himbo, your thug, your ladies' man, your stoic guy, with Shotaro rounding out the cast as the shy and awkward audience surrogate. It looks wholesome enough, and the choreographed routines employ CG in a way that's quite convincing without being hideous.
Who It's For
Fans of FREE, or Yuri!!! on Ice, or any similar shows about cute boys who succeed at athletic feats.
Borscht Rating
Burning Kabaddi
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The Lowdown
Legendary high school soccer star Yoigoshi Tatsuya has given up on sports! That is, until he's blackmailed to join the high school kabaddi team, under threat of his online persona being leaked to the entire school. Although Tatsuya initially writes kabaddi off as stupid, the unexpected happens as he begins to have fun.
Our Thoughts
Kabaddi is kinda like competitive tag, or dodgeball but with your body instead of a ball. Burning Kabaddi is basically the shounen alternative to Backflip!! above, replete with nosebleeds, pratfalls, and dudes punching each other. The main cast don't seem to like each other very much; that probably changes as the show goes on but at first blush it's a dynamic I always find annoying.
Who it's For
Fans of Haikyuu!!? Maybe?
Borscht Rating
CARDFIGHT!! VANGUARD overDress
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The Lowdown
The newest series based on Bushiroad's collectible card game, featuring character designs by the beloved collective CLAMP. Petit middle schooler Yu-Yu just doesn't know how to say no. As his older students dress him in drag to use as live makeup practice, he suffers a panic attack and flees into the streets. After being accosted by a pickup artist, he's befriended by Megumi, who invites him to witness a Cardfight match at the local abandoned amusement park. However, Yu-yu is too shy to tell Megumi he's actually a boy…
Our Thoughts
What an unexpectedly weird concept for a show about a card game. Our hero spends the whole episode in drag, whimpering and simpering at the sight of any conflict. Then they show off the latest series of cards, which all seem to be giant buff knights with names like "Bad Steve" and "Violent Bruce". Your guess is as good as mine.
Who it's For
Cardfight!! lovers, Japanese gender studies majors, or the most desperate fujoshi.
Borscht Rating
Cestvs: The Roman Fighter
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The Lowdown
The year is 54AD, and Nero has taken the throne as the youngest emperor of Rome. At the bottom of the population, Cestvs is a young slave training to be a colosseum boxer. Reluctant, his only choice is to fight or die.
Our Thoughts
Seeing Nero depicted as a gentle little twink is pretty funny. It's also pretty funny that the central character is named after a Roman boxing glove. The animation style transitions to some very uncanny CG when a major fight takes place, and I didn't like that one bit! This seems like a pretty average tournament anime but with a historical setting. It's currently unknown if any of these dudes are fucking each other. I'm gonna say probably.
Who It's For
The venn-diagram of Greco-Roman history buffs and lovers of tournament series?
Borscht Rating
Don’t Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro!
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The Lowdown:
Hachioji Naoto is a nerdy, introverted student who spends his time studying and avoiding socialising. When pages from the fantasy manga he's drawing fall out of his bookbag, they catch the attention of a younger student named Nagatoro Hayase. Nagatoro begins to tease Naoto for his otaku interests and awkward demeanour, peppered with some suggestive flirting.
Our Thoughts:
What would you do if a younger girl flirted with you? Would you cry? Piss your pants maybe? Maybe shit and cum? Don't Toy With Me… attempts to barely conceal its BDSM fantasy with its comedic elements, but it's incredibly apparent as Nagatoro always wipes away Naoto's tears as a sort of aftercare. It's like a lighter, comedic version of Aku no Hana, but lacking any of the ponderings or danger that made that work so special.
Who It's For:
People who search Pornhub for "bratty sister femdom".
Borscht Rating:
86 Eighty-Six
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The Lowdown
The Republic of San Magnolia and the Giad Empire, have been at war for nearly a decade. Using advanced military technology, the frontlines are fought by giant mecha drones called Juggernauts, controlled remotely by Handlers. Major Vladilena Mirizé is one of the military's most talented Handlers in the 1st District, and one who is constantly teased by her peers for the humanity and empathy she shows her squadron. The government line is that drone warfare has kept casualties to zero, but unbeknownst to the public these "drones'' are piloted by 86ers—the lowest class of citizens, forced to live in military internment camps in San Magnolia's 86th District.
Our Thoughts
This is incredibly my kind of thing. We've got a dual narrative being set up here: Vladilena as the kind, reluctant officer of a fascist regime, and the Bad Company-esque antics of her new ragtag squad, Spearhead. The first episode is split pretty evenly between the two, with each story converging at the end as Vladilena "meets" Spearhead for the first time through her comms station. It's an explosive and enticing first episode, and I can't wait to watch more of it.
Who It's For
Fans of Fullmetal Alchemist, Psycho-Pass, Gundam, or any number of anti-imperialist war stories.
Borscht Rating
Fairy Ranmaru
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The Lowdown
In a quiet corner of the city sits Bar F, a modest drinking establishment staffed entirely by five hot young men. Unbeknownst to the general population, these men are a crack team of fairies sent to the human world to gather the latent energy of "attachment". They do this by solving the problems of young women, taking their hearts in the process.
Our Thoughts
Hubba hubba, a little something for the ladies! It's Weiẞ Kreuz with a bar instead of a flower shop, fairies instead of assassins, and some pretty revealing outfits. There's definitely a little Persona 5 inspiration here too, from the punctuating phrase "Take your Heart!" to many of the visual cues. Make of that what you will.
Who It's For
Fans of Weiẞ Kreuz, slash fic authors.
Borscht Rating
Farewell, My Dear Cramer
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The Lowdown
Onda Nozomi was once the star player of her middle school football team. Completely unmatched, she no longer plays as there's no opponent she deems to be on her level. Meanwhile Suou Sumire far outpaces her teammates, causing her frustration. By a twist of fate, these two girls find themselves joining the scrappy Warabi Seinan High School FC as they begin to learn the value of teamwork and friendship.
Our Thoughts
I don't know sports. And I really don't know football. I had to look up what the title meant, and now I barely know who Dettmar Cramer is. I'm really not the best person to judge this, but it seems like a pretty good female-driven sports anime.
Who It's For
Fans of Ace o Nerae! or other sports manga/anime about those ever burning bonds between young teammates.
Borscht Rating
Gloomy, the Naughty Grizzly
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The Lowdown:
Pitty lives with his pet Gloomy, a massive pink bear. Can a boy and a bear truly get along?
Our Thoughts:
This is a series of minute-long gag episodes in which Gloomy mauls Pitty and blood squirts everywhere. It's definitely meant to be a morbid parody of Sanrio or San-X; it might be a Rilakkuma parody in particular? Gloomy is the kind of thing you might laugh at if it came on in between shows, but it's pretty slight to go through the trouble of putting on.
Who It's For:
Gag anime fans with one minute to spare.
Borscht Rating:
Higehiro: After Being Rejected, I Shaved and Took in a High School Runaway
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The Lowdown
After a night of drinking in Tokyo, slovenly salaryman Yoshida encounters a teenage runaway sitting under a lamppost. She offers to sleep with him in return for letting her spend the night in his apartment. Yoshida refuses her offer but allows her to stay. The next morning the girl, Sayu, reveals she's travelled all the way from Hokkaido, sleeping with random men in return for lodging and money. Feeling responsible for her safety, Yoshida agrees for Sayu to stay indefinitely in return for handling household chores.
Our Thoughts
This is kind of the inverse of Koikimo (see below), but without a scumbag character and from a male perspective. It's not nearly as nauseating as that show, but it's still a fantasy about living with a busty teenage girl.
Who It's For
Libertarians.
Borscht Rating
I've Been Killing Slimes For 300 Years And Maxed Out My Level
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The Lowdown:
Office lady Aizawa Azusa dies of overwork in her early 20s, and finds herself standing before a lecherous goddess. Allowed a wish as compensation for her untimely demise, Azusa wishes for an endless life of leisure. The goddess reincarnates her as a 17-year-old immortal witch in an RPG-coded fantasy world. Thrilled, Azusa lazes about, brewing potions for her neighbouring villagers, and kills a small amount of slimes each day to supplement her income. After doing this every day for 300 years, she inadvertently finds herself at Level 99. Her peaceful life is soon upended as adventurers and dragons come from miles around to challenge the legendary witch.
Our Thoughts:
I'm not really an isekai fan, and that goes double for series which aren't set in an RPG, yet use RPG mechanics. Levelling up, grinding stats, min-maxing, as if it's a part of the fabric of the setting. I don't get it. I like watching numbers go up as much as the next dork, but I don't need to watch numbers go up in absolutely every piece of media I consume. Just play a fucking video game, Jesus Christ almighty.
I thought this might be setting up a fun series in which a layabout is reluctantly called upon to undertake a dangerous quest, but I don't think that's what's going on at all. When the red dragon Laika wrecks Azusa's house, she transforms into a cute young girl and the two begin living together, teaching each other the pros and cons of hard work and slothfulness respectively. The trajectory of the series might be as laid back as its protagonist in the end, which, ultimately, would be fitting.
Who It's For:
Isekai fans, slice-of-life fans. The twain have met!
Borscht Rating:
Joran: The Princess of Snow and Blood
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The Lowdown
In alternative history Japan the Meiji Period continued well into the 1930s, and the ongoing Tokugawa Shogunate has brought technological prosperity to the nation through a magical energy source called the Dragon's Vein. Sawa Yukimura runs a bookshop where she lives with her little sister by day, but by night she's an assassin for Nue, the shogunate's secret police. As the terrorist group Kuchinawa deploys transforming beasts in an attempt to topple the shogunate, Nue springs into action with their own abilities.
Our Thoughts
There are a lot of concepts competing here, and a few too many flashy transformation sequences for my taste, but I'm really into it! Nue are made up of sex workers and street musicians, often overlooked and therefore easily able to blend in. There's a supernatural Standalone Complex vibe to how the team operates, and they're almost assuredly on the wrong side. Worth a shot!
Who It's For
Fans of alternate history science fiction, Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex, Demon Slayer.
Borscht Rating
Koikimo: Koi to Yobu ni wa Kimochi Warui ("It's Disgusting to Call This Love")
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The Lowdown
Amakusa Ryo is a womanizing salaryman concerned with nothing but his own base desires. As he slips on the train station stairs one morning, he's saved by the swift action of Arima Ichika, a kind-hearted high schooler. When it turns out Ichika is friends with Ryo's younger sister Riou, he decides she's his soulmate, and begins to pursue her no matter how many times she refuses him. Comedy ensues!
Our Thoughts
Yeah, OK groomer.
Alright look, Korikimo is written by a woman and told from Ichika's perspective, so this is obviously meant to be a lighthearted "older man" shoujou romance. As an older man, all I saw were the adventures of a paedophile and the teenager he's stalking. Fuck off.
Who it's For
There's probably other stuff like this, right? If you like that, here you go.
Borscht Rating
Let's Make a Mug, Too
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The Lowdown
After the death of her mother, Himeno and her father relocate from bustling Tokyo to quiet Tajimi City in Gifu Prefecture. The former salaryman opens a quiet cafe using the remarkable mugs made by his late wife, while Himeno follows in her mother's footsteps and joins the school pottery club. Although her first project ends in disaster, Himeno makes fast friends with the eccentric pottery enthusiasts who make up the club.
Our Thoughts
It's no Eizouken, but I guess it's probably not meant to be. I'm not a big iyashikei genre fan, but if that's your thing, you might enjoy the wholesome non-adventures of three girls trying to make a mug. It's worth noting these episodes are only about 12 minutes long, with the remaining runtime segmented into live action episodes where the voice actresses tour Tajimi and unconvincingly pretend to be interested in Gifu's famous mino-yaki pottery. I think this must be a tie-in with a local tourist board.
Who It's For
People who enjoy stuff like Aria, actually.
Borscht Rating
OddTaxi
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The Lowdown
In a Tokyo populated by anthropomorphic animals, a solemn walrus named Odokawa spends his nights driving his cab around the bustling metropolis, spending his free time drinking with his pals. Odokawa soon finds his quiet life disrupted by a caper involving a missing girl, some crooked cops, and the animal yakuza.
Our Thoughts
A deft blend of working class slice-of-life with mystery, cute animals, and striking visual design. OddTaxi might be the sleeper hit of Spring 2021.
Who It's For
Fans of existentialist film noir with absurdist comedy, Polar Bear Cafe, walrus lovers.
Borscht Rating
Osamake: Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose
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The Lowdown
Suehiro Maruo Sueharu Maru has his heart set on Shirokusa Kachi, the hottest girl in school. When she begins dating a young actor, Sueharu confides in his childhood friend Kuroha Shida, who's openly in love with him and he rejected in the past. Kuroha suggests the two get revenge on Shirokusa by pretending to be in love. Will Sueharu fall in love with Kuroha for real, making her dreams come true?
Our Thoughts
Give me a fucking break.
Who It's For
I don't know and I don't care.
Borscht Rating
SD Gundam World Heroes
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The Lowdown
The newest instalment of the SD Gundam media-mix franchise. In a world populated by super deform mecha, a burning meteor lands in the middle of Captain City. From it launches a terrible mechanized beast: Naughty Lion. When the police are powerless to stop it, a crack team led by Zhuge Liang Gundam and Liu Bei Gundam sorties to bring Naughty Lion to justice. When the beast stops rampaging, it transforms into Sun Wukong Gundam, a youthful amnesiac mecha horrified at the destruction he wrought. The Three Kingdoms Gundams welcome Sun Wukong into the fold to make sense of this mysterious event.
Our Thoughts
I'm an 80s kid, I know a 30-minute toy commercial when I see one.
No, seriously though, I'm aware of SD Gundam's merchandising—they're cute designs, and I even used to have a bunch of the gum rubber mini figurines. I've played the SD Great War Super Famicom games, they're fun! This is a vehicle to get kids hyped up about the latest toys, which are...based on a hodgepodge of Journey to the West and Romance of the Three Kingdoms this year? There's even a little SD Guan Yu Gundam with a big long beard!
I kinda wanted to like the idea of a bearded robot, but the mechas are super busy and overdesigned. I guess there's only so much you can do to make your next series of toys bigger and better, so these guys are all decked out in gold accents, capes, horns, and antlers, and half the time I couldn't parse what I was seeing.
I'm so glad I don't have to watch any more of this.
Who It's For
Very, *very* young mecha fans.
Borscht Rating
Seven Knights Revolution: Hero Successor
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The Lowdown
Long ago, the Dark God Nestra ruled the world through fear. Standing against him were the Seven Knights, seven brave warriors chosen by the Light Goddess Serrass. With their powers combined, Nestra was defeated and the lands returned to peace. Hundreds of years later the wicked Physis Cult seeks to revive Nestra, summoning undead beasts to ravage the countryside. With the Seven Knights long dead, the Granseed Academy has risen to train the next wave of heroes to combat this threat. Using special cards, the students of Granseed are able to call upon the power of the Seven Knights to guide them in battle.
Our Thoughts
As soon as the opening started with its transforming heroes and lovingly depicted weapon cards, I realised this must be based on a mobile game. Indeed, this is based on a free-to-play gacha from Korean developer Netmarble. Even before I was able to confirm this, Hero Successor failed to draw me in, eschewing details on the nature of its world in lieu of a glamourised marketing push for its source material. What's here is incredibly slight, and likely to be of little interest to anyone who isn't deep into this game.
Who It's For
Seven Knights whales, I guess.
Borscht Rating
Those Snow White Notes
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The Lowdown
Sawamura Setsu mourns the death of his grandfather Matsugorou, a talented shamisen player who refused to pass his secrets on. Not knowing what else to do, he leaves his remote village for Tokyo, taking nothing but his shamisen along with him. Soon he finds himself wrapped up in the complicated life of aspiring actress Yuna and her scuzzy rockstar boyfriend Taketo. When Setsu opens for Taketo's band, he stuns the audience with the raw emotion of his playing. However, his heart is still tumultuous.
Our Thoughts
An entertaining first episode of a speciality music series, which is the kind of thing I have a place in my heart for. I couldn't shake the feeling of some latent misogyny that suggested the role of a woman is to inspire a tortured artist, but I might be wrong. The final few minutes take a twist by introducing Setsu's weird, horny mother who seems to have her own personal SWAT team, and it looks like the series becomes a more conventional high school anime from episode 2 onwards. Don't know about that!
Who It's For
Fans of Kids on the Slope, Sound of the Sky.
Borscht Rating
Tokyo Revengers
Show Link
The Lowdown
Former delinquent Takemichi is unsatisfied with the way his life turned out, living alone in a paper-thin apartment and working a minimum wage job under a boss who doesn't respect him. When watching the news one evening, he learns that his highschool sweetheart Hinata was killed, alongside her little brother. On the way to work the next morning, Takemichi falls in front of an oncoming train and wakes up 12 years in the past. Armed with foreknowledge, he attempts to turn his life around and save his onetime lover.
Our Thoughts
This is drawing from a lot of sources; the whole train sequence is lifted straight from Gantz, while the story itself initially seems like a Life on Mars kind of deal. In fact, Tokyo Revengers sees Takemichi jump back and forth between the present and the past, seemingly making small changes until he achieves his desired outcome. It feels like a very video gamey depiction of time travel, and one that's not super interesting.
Who It's For
Steins;Gate fans, maybe? Delinquent manga (Shonan Junai Gumi, Crows, etc.) fans, maybe? It's pretty self-serious compared to any of those.
Borscht Rating
To Your Eternity
Show Link
The Lowdown
An immortal being in the form of an orb falls to earth and becomes a stone. Years pass, an ice age sets in, and a white wolf stumbles onto the tundra and dies. The orb, able to take the form of anything that leaves a strong impression on it, transforms into the wolf and slowly learns how to use its newfound ambulatory body. The creature treks back through the tundra where it meets a boy living alone, after the rest of his village left in search of a better life. The boy recognises the wolf as his beloved pet, Johann, and the two begin living together in the harsh, lonely wastes.
Our Thoughts
I'm being a little coy with the synopsis here, and there's a major shake-up at the end of this debut episode. This one's based on a manga by the critically acclaimed Yoshitoki Ooima (A Silent Voice), and it's a depressing, compelling, and exciting start to a series. Lots of potential here!
Who It's For
Fans of NieR, Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon, Last Exile, Kino's Journey.
Borscht Rating
So, there you have it. I'm hoping this will be of use to anyone who experiences a similar sense of dread when faced with so many choices. Maybe we’ll do this again during the Summer 2021 anime season.
Also, please don't get mad at me if I'm snarky about your new favourite show! It’s just TV and I'm a big idiot anyway.
#anime#crunchyroll#backflip!!#burning kabaddi#cardfight!! vanguard overDress#cestvs#don't toy with me miss nagatoro#86#eighty six#fairy ranmaru#farewell my dear cramer#gloomy#higehiro#koikimo#killing slimes#joran#let's make a mug too#oddtaxi#osamake#sd gundam#seven knights#those snow white notes#tokyo revengers#to your eternity
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The Wong End of the Telescope
By @agirlcalledNarelle: submission for Angst fic exchange in Apr 2020. Prompt was ‘Mulder and Scully on the run angst’! Trigger warning: suicide reference, disordered eating. How did Mulder & Scully end up in the UH?
6,8K words. Here on AO3
Cotton candy pink grazed the tops of the darkened hills. It was the hour of magical thinking, when dreams fuse with reality and imaginary adventures are tethered once more by the earth’s physical laws. Scully pulled up at a trailer park, her eyes on the dirt track in front of her rather on the hills above. The energy of the hour moved around her like the parted Red Sea. Mulder stirred beside her, stretching his arms over his head, and wiped spittle from the side of his mouth.
‘Where are we?’ His voice was hoarse from sleep. He looked at her in a daze, so boyish and trusting, having slept for the last seven hours. She wanted to reach over and stroke his warm, pink cheek, but instead she sat on her hands and stared outside.
‘Crockett, Texas.’
‘Why?’
‘Sun was coming up,’ she answered tersely. ‘It meets the criteria, and we’ve been on the go for over 12 hours.’
The sky was now a cloudless blue. Dry air promised a hot day ahead. Their last town had been in flat and endless prairie country. Scully had ached to see mountains, the hodgepodge of nature competing for survival, so she subconsciously delivered them to a town surrounded by hills in the neighbouring national park. She used to like arriving. She would enjoy discovering what made each town tick, uncovering their customs and values, until she realised every place was the same in that they would one day leave it behind.
The door to the trailer park reception opened and a dishevelled woman eyed them suspiciously.
‘We don’t open til 7,’ she called, her features distorted with annoyance. ‘Y’all will just have to wait til then.’
Scully looked at her watch: it was 6:55am. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully got there first.
‘That’s fine, we can wait. Thanks for letting us know.’ She attempted a smile, but it sat foreign on her lips. The woman said nothing and closed the door.
‘It’s only five minutes, Scully,’ Mulder muttered, kicking the gravel. ‘I’m sure she could have sprung us a key.’
‘What’s the point in drawing attention to ourselves?’ Scully replied sharply. ‘We just got here. I don’t want to have to leave before we’ve even had breakfast because you’ve gone and made yourself all memorable. We’re living by your rules, you know.’
Yesterday, she had returned to their trailer to find Mulder urgently packing the car. Gotta move, he had said. The Sheriff had come into the store where Mulder worked stacking shelves, and Mulder didn’t like the way he’d answered the Sheriff’s innocent questions. Felt there was too much room for scrutiny, and he got his feeling. The feeling when someone looked at them for too long or asked too many follow up questions. Before she’d had a chance to shower, they were leaving town.
At precisely 7am, the sign on the door of the lodge switched from Closed to Welcome! We’re open. Scully paid in cash for a week while Mulder sulked by the car. She left him to carry in the bags while she entered the stuffy trailer in search of the bed.
*
She found work a café off a main road which offered all-day breakfasts for the laborers, and milkshakes and relative privacy for the high schoolers. The first time Mulder had been a fugitive, the Lone Gunmen had set up a couple of bank accounts in different names for him to access. Now they were nearing the end of their second year on the run as a pair, and without the Gunmen’s help, they worked to supplement themselves. As Mulder liked to say, their opportunities dried up as quickly as the money in those accounts.
Ed, the manager, had thought Scully would be perfect for front of house. She preferred something along the lines of washing dishes and his expression revealed that it wasn’t the first time he’d received such a request. He’d looked her up and down and nodded slowly. Shift is 6am to 2pm, 6 days a week, Ed said daringly, you think you can handle that?
Scully filled up the sink on her first day when a boy entered, skinny, with mousy brown hair in need of a trim. He slipped an apron over his standard teen uniform of black jeans, band t-shirt and converse. She guessed he was 17, maybe 18 years old. He stopped still at the sight of her.
‘Who are you?’ His voice was both deep and weedy, still adjusting to itself.
‘Denise.’ Another of Mulder’s rules: keep the same initial. Easier to roll off your tongue. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Chet. I’m the morning waiter until 2pm, when Sasha’s in.’ He reached across her to wash his hands. It had been a while since someone other than Mulder has stood in such close proximity. Feeling crowded, she inhaled quickly and concentrated on tying her hair up. ‘You’re different to the last washer.’ Scully didn’t say anything. ‘You new in town? Did you just arrive?’
‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ Scully busied herself with the pots, and Chet took the hint. They didn’t talk for the rest of the shift.
‘Do you think it will work?’ Mulder asked when she returned 8 hours later, accompanied by the smell of cooking oil. The afternoon was caught under a bell jar, hot and still. Mulder was sprawled on the bed with newspapers spread in front of him, looking for any information that could potentially threaten them. Scully was sure that, should she ever ask him, he wouldn’t be able to articulate exactly what he was looking for.
‘It’s fine.’ She removed her shoes and sat on the end of the bed. Her feet were humming from the day’s work followed by the 3 mile walk back. ‘Same as that place in Burlington.’
‘Kansas?’
‘Sure.’ She crawled fully onto the bed and tucked her hand under the pillow, her back to Mulder.
‘Good. The more anonymous the better.’ Mulder pulled the papers from under her. ‘It looks like there are two local newspapers, but the most popular one here is USA Today.’
‘Well that’s a surprise.’
‘Whatever, Scully. I’m not doing this for fun.’ She felt him lie down next to her. The hairs on her back stood to attention, hoping he wouldn’t touch. The silence between them was a black hole, and Scully jumped right in.
‘I found work at a local motel. They’re renovating for Summer.’ Mulder said quietly after a few minutes.
‘Ok.’ Scully stayed on her side.
‘I stocked up at the store, so we don’t have to go for a little while. Do you want anything to eat?’
‘No.’ She closed her eyes against the daylight.
*
The mirror in the trailer was placed such that she could only see her shoulders up. Mulder had to crouch to see himself, and Scully very nearly had to stand on tiptoes. Before, this would have made her laugh.
Around her 40th birthday, she had gone through a phase of avoiding mirrors altogether, but now she studied her reflection with interest. Her pronounced clavicle snaked around the bottom of her neck like two thin arms buried under the skin threatening to strangle her. Feathery lines sat under her eyes from months of squinting at the road. Her cheekbones slid into shadowed gorges and levelled out to her soft chin, slack and furry with little hair. Freckles splattered like paint on a pale canvas. Grey dominated the natural auburn at her temples so that when she pulled her hair into a ponytail her mother’s face gazed back at her. The first time she saw the likeness she had gasped, remembering her father sitting next to her Christmas tree, little Emily asking to be set free in a wooden church. From then on, her hair was always down unless at work.
Mulder made her wear a baseball cap when she was out. If she dyed her hair, she was allowed to leave the cap at home. The idea of being anything other than a shade of red panicked her: this was her last thing. She was already hollowed out, a tinman pretending to have a heart. If she lost her hair colour, she felt she would finally rust over and be lost forever. What else did she have left?
*
Scully was scrubbing stubborn scrambled eggs from a large frying pan. The effort made her arm ache, and she felt slightly dizzy. Though they had shared fewer than 10 sentences since she started a week ago, she welcomed a break when Chet walked quickly into the kitchen.
‘Trade places with me,’ He said urgently. She looked at him properly for the first time. His head was ducked, chin covered in the duckling fluff of a teen too keen to prove his maturity. He was tall, she realised. She hadn’t realised how tall, given his movements were soft and quick. She wondered what his mother felt when she looked at him.
‘Why?’ She asked suspiciously. ‘I need to stay back here.’
‘Please, would you just do it for me?’ He pleaded. Scully scanned the room to see a table of girls laughing over their menus.
‘You want to avoid those girls?’
‘Something like that,’ Chet mumbled, cheeks flushed. Scully sighed and took the apron out of his hands, her palms sweaty with nerves. She took their order and found she had forgotten how to move her face. Her reactions felt too big, too staged. She tested her limits by taking another order from another girl sat by herself. When she returned to the kitchen, Chet had scrubbed off the remaining egg.
‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully.
‘I’m not going to do it again,’ she snapped, snatching the brush from his hands. He left, and she leaned against the sink, hating herself for snapping. After almost three years on the run, her ability to make connections was off. She wrapped her right thumb and middle finger around her left wrist, measuring its circumference. Her wrist didn’t touch the fingers, and she was pleased when she could circle her wrist freely their grip. The bubbles in the sink crackled as they burst, slowly revealing a yellow glob of egg.
*
She would wake before Mulder to get to the café on time. He slept soundly, in a way he never could previously, on his back with an arm over his head. The conspiracy hadn’t been enough: he needed to be fully consumed by something, eaten, removed from life as he knew it, before he found peace.
He was enjoying his current line of work. She could tell because he once described the paint brush gliding like a toboggan, or by his swagger as he removed his t-shirt after a day of manual labour. Previously he was all about exposing the designs of others; now he was the creator. He was proud of himself. She had picked a hangnail on her pinkie, dry from constantly being in water, as he told her a tale about some wood and nails. Or it might have been shelves and a spirit level. She hadn’t listened too closely, knowing that whatever he found here would last only as long as he felt safe. Soon the time would come when his house of cards would fall.
*
‘What are you doing here, anyway, Ms Denise?’ Chet asked her. He was standing in the doorway, at a loose end. Rain kept the breakfast regulars away. Scully’s wet ponytail was plastered down her back and her soaked t-shirt stuck to her leggings. Her hipbones, sharp and round like pin heads, pressed against the sink as she leaned over, missing the usual padding of a dry t-shirt. They would bruise by the end of the day.
‘What do you mean?’ She asked flatly. With no customers, she kept busy by dismantling and cleaning the fat fryer.
‘Just that.’ Chet helped her remove one of the baskets. ‘Why did y’all come to Crockett? To work in a café? What’s the story?’
‘No story. Just in need of a job.’
‘No story.’
‘Nope.’
‘You’re here just because you need a job. All on your lonesome.’
‘Yep.’ She popped the ‘p’ sound at the end.
‘My uncle had a friend who just turned up out of nowhere,’ Chet said. ‘Turns out he had two different families over in Louisiana. Weren’t long before he got sprung and had to go back. Now he’s awaiting trial for polygamy.’
‘So what?’ Her forehead suddenly prickled with sweat and she wiped it with her wrist. She met his gaze and held it in a silent threat.
‘Nothing’s never nothing, s’all I’m saying.’ Chet left to serve a customer, and Scully exhaled shakily. The oil mixed with the soap in the sink to create rainbows on the slimy surface. This kid was smart. A liability best kept to herself for now.
*
Scully ate an apple each morning as she meandered down the dirt roads to work, its crunch made louder by the darkness. She emptied her mind and savoured her surroundings, appreciating each ditch in the road, and the way a particular shrub resembled a sheep as she passed the ‘Welcome to Crockett!’ sign. Sporadic streetlights illuminated her solitary figure like the beacon of a lighthouse.
They had started out as crusaders, underdogs who would come out on top having prevented the end of the world. However, it was clear a few weeks in that without FBI resources, and the very real talents of the Gunmen, they were doomed to exist on the fringes of society, chasing wicker men. On their first night running she had told Mulder that she wouldn’t accept defeat if he didn’t, a memory that now makes her prickle with discomfort. That Scully is a high school student scribbling love hearts on her exercise books. That Scully doesn’t realise that unconditional love is actually anguish, pain, boredom, compromise, rage, sacrifice, not just sometimes but all the time until you’re so far in you can’t see where you stop and the other begins.
She used to feel like Mulder was the one holding the other end of the rope. But while they had been distracted buying cheap second-hand cars with high mileage, crossing state lines, eating store-bought sandwiches in the middle of the night, the rope had frayed and snapped. They each still had their end, but their futile attempts to mend it hurt so much that after a while, she just stopped trying.
*
‘Scully?’
My name, she thought idly as she swam from the depths of sleep. Not my never name, though. Not Dana. It’s my sometimes name. She tried to ignore it, but it repeated until she slowly became aware of her dull head, her dry mouth, of Mulder’s voice coaxing her back to him.
‘Mmmh?’ Forcing her eyes open, she saw Mulder sat on the bed. He didn’t touch her, she noted, and her shoulder shivered in the absence of his hand. The space in the trailer compacted with Mulder’s return. The walls closed in as he crossed the threshold and there wasn’t enough room for her. She could see his mind humming with thoughts, but not knowing what they were, she would feel like an intruder.
‘You’re asleep again.’ He said with a hint of accusation.
‘Mmmh.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. If she was lucky, she could fall back to sleep quickly.
‘I’ve brought food.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve brought food.’
‘Oh. I ate at work.’
‘That was 6 hours ago.’ She opened her eyes again. It was 8pm already? ‘You were sleeping when I came home at 6, and it looks like you’ve not moved.’
‘I took a sandwich home with me,’ Scully lied. ‘You woke me when you left again, I ate then.’
He met her eyes and she realised she couldn’t remember the last time they’d properly looked at each other. His face was worn. She spied blue paint by his ear. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Like her, he had flecks of grey around his hairline, and his eyes seemed smaller among the creases of his cheeks. But there was energy coursing behind his irises. He can handle this, she realised enviously. This lifestyle suited him.
She shrank as he studied her in return. He had always been interested in her mind, had always valued her level-headed scientific approach. She knew he had found her beautiful at some point, but his true love affair was with her intellect. She counted on the fact that he wouldn’t ever really see her. She liked feeling invisible. But now he had noticed what she saw when she looked at her reflection.
‘Are you eating enough?’ His question landed heavily in her stomach. She circled her left wrist with her right fingers and twisted, drawing confidence from the gap.
‘Yeah.’ She avoided his eyes.
‘Are you sure, Scully?’
‘I told you, I already ate.’
‘You look thin.’
Scully fluffed her pillows and lay back down again. ‘It’s just from being on my feet all day. And the walk there and back.’
‘Do you need a ride there each day? I can get up earlier. I don’t want you –’
‘I’m fine, Mulder. Please.’ She rolled away from him, not caring that she was still fully clothed. She felt sleep stalking her in the periphery and prostrated herself ready for it to snatch her.
*
The first rule Mulder created was that they avoid being in public together, the net result being a lot of alone time for her when her shift finished. She was to go home straight away. He would pick up their groceries on his way home, comfortable with his own vulnerability, but he resisted her attempts at independence beyond what was absolutely necessary.
Every day the trailer was oppressed by afternoon heat. The air refused to move so it felt like she was wading through blankets. She would sleep the afternoons away, passing out so heavily that she felt drugged when she awoke, limbs heavy, clinging on to unconsciousness as her senses fired up. More than once, she thought she was still in her Georgetown apartment, and it took a few minutes to remember. She would try to wake up before Mulder came home, but recently that was proving more challenging.
Her bones were dragging.
*
‘Can you trade with me again?’ Chet arrived at her elbow. She instinctively took a step back. ‘Please?’
‘I told you the last time,’ Scully replied, ‘no. I need to stay here.’
‘Please. I can’t go out there.’ He sounded so desperate that she sighed and scanned the restaurant for the table of girls.
‘I don’t see those girls here,’ she said.
‘That group of girls? With the headbands and the lettermen?’ Chet scoffed. ‘No, not them.’
‘Then who?’ Curious, Scully couldn’t help but look again. She saw in the corner a small girl with brown hair to her shoulders reading a book. ‘That girl over there?’
Chet backed away, his cheeks blushing
‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Amanda Jones.’
‘She seems nice?’ Scully asked, unsure of what to say.
‘She is nice.’ He ran his hands over his hair. ‘She’s super smart, and she really thinks about things. She’s not one of those girls you saw the other day…’
‘Those other girls don’t think?’ Scully bristled at Chet’s casual dismissal.
‘I don’t know if they do or not. But they’re not very nice.’ He paused, looking out at Amanda. ‘Please. I can’t go out there.’
Scully sized him up before holding her hand out for his apron. She remembered how teenage love teetered between affirming and soul destroying. The girl looked up and ordered a coffee with such self-possession that even Scully had to admit she was impressed.
*
Dana pulled up outside her mother’s dark house. It was 7pm and she was expected for dinner, but she was met with silence. Her mother’s purse was on the hall table. Shopping sat on the kitchen counters. There was a sweet, fermented smell of rotting fruit.
Professional instincts kicking in, she drew her weapon and checked downstairs before making her way upstairs. Her mom was on the bathroom floor, eyes closed and congealed blood at her temple.
‘Mom!’ Dana cried as she kneeled beside her. She patted her mother’s cheek urgently, and Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open. Relief washed over Dana and her arms shook as she moved.
‘Dana….’ Maggie whispered. ‘I fell….’
‘Mom, I’m gonna help you,’ Dana was unable to stop her voice from wavering. She held a damp washcloth against the side of her mother’s head. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Two days ago maybe… or three…I’m not really sure.’ Scully held a second wet, clean cloth to her mom’s lips for her to suck. ‘I couldn’t get to the phone…. I’ve been here for such a long time.’
Maggie closed her eyes and went limp. Dana felt her mother’s pulse weaken, and she screamed.
Scully sat bolt upright, throat wheezing as she desperately sucked in air. She panted, sweat rolling down her back as she held her hands out to orient herself. There was the bedside table. There was the side of the bed. There was Mulder, his strong back to her, snoring. Her mother was back at home, and Scully had to believe she was alive and well.
She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Mulder, and sat on the steps outside. It was warm enough to sit in her t-shirt. She put her arms around her knees and lit a cigarette. She struggled to sleep past 2am these days.
Some nights she would reach around Mulder to wake him with her hands. She would take him in her mouth, and he would push her head until she gagged. Their bodies grew slippery together, and she would dig her nails into his back to gain traction as she sat on him, feeling him plunge into the cavernous depths of her. She would cry his name – his real name - in her throaty voice, the black night their only witness. It was always quick, vicious, and she rarely had her turn although she didn’t want that. She wanted to be entered, to be filled up. They wouldn’t speak after, but the next day there would be a new charge in the current between them which almost made the situation almost bearable.
Most nights, however, she would simply sit outside and smoke. She savoured her secret cigarettes, this tasty rebellion. The orange glow soared through the air like a grown-up sparkler.
The expanse of the stars made her mind spin as she gazed upwards. She remembered her childhood astronomy, spotting the Big Dipper and the Big Bear. She heard her father’s commentary. In these moments, Scully wondered if she was even really there. She might blow away on the wind’s currents, floating higher and higher until she was as far away as the stars. She felt like she was looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope.
*
The day in May came, around which all others moved, and she dragged herself to the café when all her instincts told her to stay in bed and spend the day remembering his gummy smile and the sound of his cry.
The day before, she had eyed a bottle of whiskey as she replenished her clandestine cigarettes on her way home but had ultimately decided against it. Throughout the years they had both tried to escape this day via alcohol. For her, it resulted shame and hazy memories of tear-soaked grief, Mulder’s clumsy hands holding her hair back as she vomited, raging against his strength as he tried to contain her. On his part, he turned inwards, growing snarky, mean and morose. He channelled his energy towards the cruellest insults which swirled in her head for months after. You call yourself a mother? You give him up and then claim to be a mother? You’re a selfish bitch, Scully, that’s what you are, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life.
At the café, she saw Chet hanging around her sink. Her heart sank when he smiled as she approached. She wasn’t sure she could handle him today.
‘Ms Denise!’ He greeted her enthusiastically. ‘I have news.’
Scully said nothing and turned the tap on. Chet wasn’t put off by her indifference, having worked with her for 7 weeks now and seen little else.
‘I was riding home from work yesterday and I saw Amanda had a puncture,’ his thin, reticulin fingers gesticulated as spoke, ‘so I helped her fix it, and we walked home together and had the best conversation. Turns out she’s reading '1984’, which is my favourite book. We both think it’s so clever, you know, how they reduce thought by altering language. Kinda like what’s going on now, all this war on terror talk. You know what I mean?’ He laughed to himself. ‘Man, I can’t believe she actually spoke to me.’
Scully shook her head slightly to refocus. She was bothered by something he said.
‘You love '1984’?’ She asked, looking directly at him. He had shaved his fluff but kept a small, patchy moustache on his baby face. His hair had greasy roots, and she wanted to tell him to take a shower. He was clean and musty at the same time. ‘How old are you, Chet?’
‘I’m 19. I’ll be 20 in October.’
‘Why aren’t you in college?’ She asked sharply. He raised his eyebrows cynically.
‘College? What college am I going to go to?’ He replied, voice squeaking. ‘You’ve seen this town, there’s no college here.’
‘You’re a smart guy.’ Scully seethed at the waste of his potential. ‘There are colleges nearby, with scholarships –‘
‘No, I’m just gonna work here, get some money behind me,’ Chet interrupted. ‘I’ve been talking to Ed, maybe one day I can take over this place.’
‘Chet, you can have bigger dreams than the local café for the next forty years,’ Scully was desperate to make this boy see the world was bigger than this. ‘You can do whatever you want.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I can’t. I’m not that guy.’
‘Chet….’ She saw his face harden.
‘Anyway, what about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘What all are your dreams, why are you lecturing me about mine?’ His voice was raised, and Scully’s heart ticked like a metronome on the highest setting. She stepped back from the sink. This was too much attention. ‘You’re hiding something. You don’t wash your hands like a normal person. I reckon a doctor, or surgeon, someone who has to keep clean. And then there’s that cornfed guy working at the motel on the other side of town. Funny how he pops up same week as you, same accent as you, yet you don’t know nothing about anything. So who are you really, Ms Denise?’
He reeled, surprised at his outburst. Scully blinked back tears, her hands shaking as adrenaline bled through her. He reminded her so much of Mulder: observant, passionate, gentle, and he had her number. Yet this wasn’t her mini-Mulder. He was elsewhere celebrating this day with strangers, and she was in a kitchen in small town Texas. She heard waves crash in her ears.
‘I’m nothing,’ she muttered, and pushed past Chet. ‘Excuse me, I’m not feeling well.’
He called her name as she ran out the back door and threw up beside the bins. It felt good. Chunks of apple, half dissolved by acid, lay at her feet, and her teeth chattered. Chet appeared with a glass of water which she took gratefully. Her stomach churned as the water hit, but it stayed down.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. He stood next to her, unsure of what to do. ‘Today is a hard day.’
‘I can tell Ed you’re not well,’ Chet said awkwardly. ‘You should go… I can handle it today.’
It was mid-morning by the time she turned down the dirt road towards the trailer park. Mulder would have just left for work, and she wanted to crawl in bed and close off the day. She wasn’t sure what four-year olds were even like: she had a vague recollection of Matthew being into trains. She couldn’t imagine his hair colour, what his voice sounded like, whether he could count to twenty, or if he could do puzzles. She had no idea, and her ignorance of rudimentary childhood development made her feel worse.
On a whim, she ignored her thirst and walked past the trailer park entrance to the natural bushland at the end of the road, lured by the refreshing shades of green. The ground was covered in grass, with natural tracks running between the trees. Leaves and sticks scraped her ankles as she walked, and she soon found herself deep within the bushland, with only the track behind her for navigation.
She walked until her shin bones ached. Suddenly the path dropped away. The cliff was 40 feet or so and framed by the overhanging branches from the nearby trees. A creek ran through the lush valley at the base of the cliff. It looked so quiet, so unspoiled. She crept closer to the drop and looked down to see rocks directly below her. Standing tall, the breeze blew temptingly across her face and her toes crept over the edge. Then the balls of her feet. Her weight shift to her heels. She knew if she closed her eyes, her balance would falter, and who knew which way she would fall? The risk appealed. She felt dizzy. Reckless. Her hands opened by her side, her fingers stretching downwards to feel the breeze on her palms. She imagined feeling weightless.
A rustle next to her made her jump back, her natural instinct to survive proving to be stronger than her desperation to for everything to stop. She fell as she retreated, landing hard on her coccyx. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she heard herself cry. Her chest heaved twice, three times, as she inhaled to support more sobs. Pain dripped like mercury from her fingers. She gripped her hair by its roots and let out a huge scream which echoed around the valley as her rage tumbled out. It was a relief to finally feel something. A fox squirrel shot out from under the scrubland and stood still, eyeing her as she wept. It tilted its head and ran up a tree trunk. Her right fingers wrapped around her left wrist, and she twisted her wrist in the gap. Tears splashed on the rocks beside her.
*
When she got back to the motel, Scully stayed away from the bedroom. She drank three glasses of cold water and took her towel to lie on the grass outside of the trailer, enjoying the solid ground beneath her shoulder blades. Studying the leaves above her, she realised that she still had choices. She could decide things. She could identify her limits, but it came down to how much she was prepared to fight for herself. She was a hologram of the person she used to be, and she wondered if she even had the strength to stand up. Eventually she was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic lullaby of leaves in the breeze.
She woke when Mulder pulled up. Her sleep had been light, leaving her unusually refreshed. The importance of the day crashed on her chest once more, but she recognised a very, very slight shift in perspective: today could be about more than grief. What should I do with this, she wondered.
‘Scully?’ He approached her with caution, wearing his own memories of this day on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘It’s a nice day.’ She folded her towel and stood. ‘I just wanted to be outside.’
That evening, they sat outside with a beer to toast their son. They talked, though not about William. He was interested in her trip to the bushland. She told him about the sound the trees made, and the squirrel, but not how the whispers of the breeze had dared her to see if she really was immortal.
*
She had grown used to the smell of old cooking oil and grease. It seeped into her skin and her hair. Having been there for two and a half months, it smelled as much like home as anywhere had. Half-way through her shift one Tuesday morning, she asked for a plate of scrambled eggs, which the chef handed to her in surprise. Out back, past the bins, she found Chet on his break, and sat wordlessly beside him.
‘You taking a break today?’ He asked incredulously. ‘You never take a break.’
They had reached a truce after William’s birthday: he chewed her ear off about whatever he wanted, and she offered sparse but pertinent advice. Each day, he brought her some new piece of information about the youth of the town, and she found herself invested in spite of herself.
‘First time for everything,’ she replied, hoping she sounded light, carefree. The fork was awkward in her right hand, plate balanced on her lap. The eggs were yellow and solid; she sliced into them with the side of her fork. They felt like stones clogging her throat. Her mouth salivated as she ate. Scully tried to ignore how heavy the food felt inside her stomach and cleared her throat nervously. ‘Can I eat with you tomorrow too?’
‘Sure thing, Ms Denise.’ Chet balled up the paper from his bacon sandwich. ‘You don’t have to ask.’
She managed half her plate, and fought against the itch in her fingers, the urge to lock herself in the bathroom afterwards.
That afternoon, as she was leaving the Mom and Pop store, Chet and Amanda cycled past. He was in front, and he said something which made her throw her head back in laughter, her hair trailing behind like a mermaid. Scully felt a spark in her chest: a tiny flame, a burst of energy. She drew warmth from its glow.
*
They started to spend the warm evenings outside together, the fog between them slowly dissipating. She told Mulder about the legend of the Ozark Howler, a cat-like creature with horns and glowing eyes. It was said to be found in the Ozarks but there were sightings as far reaching as Texas too. Mulder’s core ignited with new folklore, curling himself towards her in his plastic chair. She presented tidbits of information to him like proud child. They found themselves in a discussion of whether it’s realistic for one cat-like creature to cover so much geography, or if it meant a growing species, and whether that contributed to or undermined its veracity. His eyes narrowed when he learned that Chet had told her about it. Careful Scully, his tone immediately changing, you don’t want to get too close. Keep your distance. She had smiled thinly, ruffled his hair, and walked back inside before he could see her tears because, for just a minute, she had forgotten and they had felt like a normal couple again.
*
‘Mulder?’ Scully approached Mulder as he lay on the couch in the tiny living room reading the papers. Three months in and she could see he was starting to twitch. It wouldn’t be long until he wanted to up sticks, and she wanted to get in first.
‘What’s up, doc?’ He smiled. She sat next to him and pressed her knees together. She had recently bought some dye to patch over her grey hairs. Her cheeks were starting to fill out with her daily plate of eggs, though she still couldn’t consider anything more solid without her palms sweating. She noticed he had started to look at her differently: he had stopped looking through her, and she felt herself take up more space.
‘Mulder…..’ She sighed and looked at the floor. ‘Mulder, I need to go home.’ She glanced up and saw shock, fear, pass over his face.
‘Go home?’ he repeated dumbly. ‘Scully, I can’t…. you know what waits for me there.’
Scully closed her eyes, not wanting to remember Mulder’s sentence: death by lethal injection. The danger had always been real, but somewhere along the way she had lost the sense of it as she had lost herself. With this request, she had to face it once more.
‘There must be a way,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘Please. It’s… I’m …. I’m not doing well. I’m… vanishing.’
‘I know that Scully,’ he said in his crinkly voice that reached into the dark shadows of her. ‘I see you. I think you’re right, I think you may have reached the end of this road. But what choice do I have?’
‘There must be a way,’ she repeated, the lump in her throat making her voice thin and tight. ‘We can email Skinner. I don’t want to leave you. I hate the thought you being by yourself.’ She paused to compose herself and reached for his hand. ‘You’re good at this life. You know how to duck and weave. The threat gives you energy, purpose, as it always has. I see you too, you know.’
‘You’re my gal. You’ve always seen all of me.’ He kissed her knuckles. ‘I know you’re struggling. I don’t know the last time I saw you eat more than a banana. I wake in the night and you’re not there.’ She stiffened but made herself stay in the conversation. It was the first honest talk they’d had in months. ‘But can you give me some time? Just a little. Please, Scully. Let me get my head around it some more.’
‘Mulder….. There’s Matthew. My Mom.’ She hiccupped the last word, and to her frustration, started to cry, releasing the pressure in her chest. She wiped her eyes. ‘I mean, what is our plan here, exactly? Wait for an apocalypse that we’re powerless to stop? Well, I don’t want to welcome that one without my family. Or maybe it doesn’t happen, and we run for the next 20 years. Or do we draw the line at 30 years? And what happens if you fall from a ladder, or even just get tonsillitis?’
They sat in silence. Mulder had abandoned the newspaper, and Scully circled her wrist. There was still a sizeable gap and her satisfaction at this quickly turned to guilt.
‘Ok, Scully.’ Mulder said finally, exhaling heavily. ‘Let’s email Skinner. See if there are options.’
*
That Sunday they drove two hours out of town to a random internet café. Mulder set up an email account and then they sent Skinner a cryptic message. Mulder drove three hours in the opposite direction two days later to see his reply, and he didn’t let Scully come. Too conspicuous for both of them to miss a day of work, he’d reasoned. Scully had wanted to throw her coffee mug at the wall in frustration.
They hadn’t spent more than a work shift apart since 2002, and Scully was bereft as she waited. She dropped a stack of plates at work, and spent the afternoon peeking out of the trailer window at the sound of every car rumble. It felt like snakes had taken up residence in her stomach.
She was sat the small table in the kitchen when he returned, a plate of celery, carrots and hummus in front of her. She cried out with relief as she heard the car pull up and ran to hug him as he exited the car. His sweater was soft, and she remembered how solid she felt when her body locked against his.
Once inside, he handed her a printout from the now deleted email account. Scully scanned it, seeing words like pardon, obstruction of justice, requalification, but her mind raced over the email before she could comprehend its meaning. She looked at him expectantly.
‘It looks like there’s a shot,’ Mulder said nervously, rubbing his palms together. ‘A long shot. Skinner thinks he could get any potential charges against you dropped as long as I continue to lay low. But he thinks there’s a possibility for us both to return.’
‘And we’d be together?’
‘Yes. We could be together.’ He finally slipped a smile. ‘I may not see daylight for the foreseeable future, so I hope you like the anaemic vampiric look.’
Scully covered her face with her hands and pushed all the air out of her lungs. Her fingers were hot, and her head tingled. She laughed, feeling a little light-headed and hysterical. She pictured her Mom’s face and the laugher turned to loud sobs of relief. Mulder kissed her head and held her tightly while she calmed. The energy in his eyes had already been replaced with fear, and she realised the price of the choice he had just made for her. For them.
‘Pack your things Scully,’ He started pulling their bags from the cupboard. ‘We gotta move.’
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Yugioh S3 Ep 36-37: Local Mom-Friend’s Weird Trick, Doctors Hate Him
Hey y’all it’s a surprise midweek post because I’m in Canada this weekend woo. Surprised I even got this post done, TBH, I finally get some time where I’m not commuting around to and from San Francisco or corralling small children and I can just sit at my computer and focus and have some peace and quiet and I got--a mysterious sickness from all those kids! *yay* So, since I can’t really focus on anything, I’ll type in here and see if any of my words make any sense at all and hopefully I won’t go on some weird ass tangent like I tend to do like every other post.
So Yugi is still dueling Kaiba, much like he has for the past like...it feels like 4 years. I know I’ve only seen 3 seasons but this is...this is a really long duel. Maybe because there was a month-long break for me in the middle, (during which I watched the entirety of Evangelion, 2 Seasons of Gotham, Stranger Things S3, and the disappointing season of One Punch Man so like...I’ve had some time away from Yugioh) or maybe...maybe it’s because they’re actually playing card mechanics that go more in depth...
But yeah, despite everything, they’re still dueling.
And honestly, I’m looking at that episode number above me and it’s like...so there’s this Kaiba and Yugi Duel and then...only one more duel, right? Is it going to be a ten episode duel? Like unless Rebecca comes back for a weird cameo like...how...?
Whatever, we’ll get there when we get there.
Anyways, everyone who’s been avoiding this duel like the plague is down with the plague victims in the hospital. That’s where Tristan gets a bright idea and it’s one of his dumber ones, believe it or not.
Man, I forgot that comatose Joey Wheeler is still wearing that duel disk Pharaoh slapped on him during all this too, haha.
Also, why does he have to have all these pectoral suction cups while they just kinda...gave up on Mai? I mean I know they can’t show boobies on a Y7 show but like...it really feels like the doctor just kinda shrugged at Mai and was like “I only have one set of boob suction cups, I really didn’t think I’d need more than that, if at all.”
(read more under the cut)
And so Tristan decides that if Joey is at the window which is like...600 ft below Yugi Muto’s duel, a duel you can’t...really see from the ground...then Joey Wheeler will arise.
I mean, it’s gonna work, it’s just also kind of laughable that Joey wasn’t able to hear any of this nonsense from the bed that is two feet away from the window.
But wtv, it’s very dramatic and Tristan gets to cry some more and feel useful I guess.
The haunted underwear mannequin plot-thread was dumped between that episode and this one, and I’m kinda bummed out that more things haven’t turned into haunted underwear mannequins.
Instead of horrific underwear mannequins, Joey’s dream has gone back to the standard fare of Joey picking on middle schoolers and wearing a much better outfit than he has for most of this show.
I will super miss Joey in a fitted suit. Like, soak it allll in horny preteens, because pretty soon, Joey Wheeler will be back in that scruffy oversized T-shirt just like...well, just like how a teenager would be. I mean there’s some REASONS Mai can’t date Joey, but the fact he has a fitted suit he refuses to ever wear is one of the top reasons right under, youknow, the fact he’d need a fake ID to ever go out with her.
It’s kind of amazing actually, how my whole life I kinda just figured this was a show of insane character designs, only to find out when I actually watch the show that there is like a ... REALLY horny line just going all the way through it.
Honestly, me trying to figure out how and when this kid’s show got so damn horny has been a very big mystery I’ve been trying to solve in the background this entire time. Like, I was told “yeah the Yugioh boys get very attractive.” and I was like “ehhhhhhhh I don’t even know what you’re talking about” but, little by little over the past 3 seasons, these animators are starting to draw these boys just waaaaaaay older than these kids actually are. I’m starting to see what people are saying. It’s still not my thing, personally, but uh yeah I can see how this spawned all that fanart now.
Anyways, speaking of, the other day a friend of mine’s sister was talking about how she, as a millennial, has been wired to love very tall skinny boys in skinny pants and very long coats with popped collars and I immediately was like “Lol are you admitting to Seto Kaiba?”
And she meant Cumberbatch Sherlock, LOLOLOLOL.
And so, back on the duel field we got Seto Kaiba, who’s a lot like Sherlock except a Sherlock who is suffering from both short term and long term memory loss. And, who does cards instead of heroin.
They probably both play violin.
Kaiba, despite having arc after arc where his little brother is his main motivation, has decided to just ditch Mokuba and it’s like...either he’s psyching Yugi out or Seto Kaiba forgot he had a brother for a little bit. He might...he might have forgotten. Mokuba is standing behind him, after all.
And so, because Joey is facing Yugi at just the right moment and at just the right time, somehow he can do his little force ability again and just do this:
Thanks, hallucination!Joey.
And out he goes, drawn like a romance anime character lol.
Anyways, he’s back to being a slob so...welcome back, wrinkle shirt, it’s been a while.
And then Joey looks around and actually said this:
“Did someone get hurt?” He asks, after being burned, electrocuted AND drowned just yesterday.
I was kinda very much hoping Tristan would deck him out.
Glad that, as predicted, the moment Mai doesn’t need to be Joey’s main motivation anymore, the moment he puts the cards away, she may as well not even exist. This show and the way they write straight romances.
Please admire the matching lace up boots on the Kaiba Corp’s Emergency Squad. This would be the most obscure Cosplay on earth but maybe the most wearable Yugioh cosplay outside of Bandit Keith because you wouldn’t need a 400 dollar wig.
And then for some reason Tea just loses her mind and has a complete breakdown. She’s been kind of a mess since Yugi walked out like 2 episodes ago, which seems kind of...I dunno, both out of character but very much in character at the same time. I mean we’re assuming they “have” a relationship it’s just never actually say that they do, so her acting like her man is dead is kinda like...it still feels like it comes out of freakin nowhere.
Anyways, Tea who is strong enough to lift this entire plane and who is, in fact, possessed by at least 2 powerful ghosts (remember Shadi did spends some time there and he did NOT like it), is now a seeping crying mess that refuses to lose any more of her hospital-prone boys.
I mean they were going to go anyway, but they let Tea pretend she had any control over that and kind of glazed over this.
Back in this game that no one else is really watching anymore, Seto Kaiba is still monologuing about his entire life story that he’s never gotten any therapy for, except for that time his evil step brother accidentally gave him therapy.
Quite upset we never see the color of Mokuba’s little tuxedo.
Course...didn’t...Noah wear a little tuxedo in that same exact shape? I mean it’s a silly headcanon but youknow...it could be a yellow tuxedo they just happened to find in the back of the closet.
And it’s at this point that Mokuba just lost his lid. I’m so used to Mokuba unconditionally supporting his crazy brother that this would have been the biggest anime betrayal of the whole series, if Mokuba had said any of this outloud (which he wisely did not).
It was like...damn Mokuba. He actually said something along the lines of “I liked you better when you were poor” and it was like. Holy cow, Mokuba. Damn.
Anyway, a bunch of card stuff happens, and Pharaoh has decided that Seto has too much anger in his heart, and that’s why he will lose. Then, Pharaoh played the card proof for how angry Seto is, and if I actually payed any attention to cards, it would have been very meaningful.
But anyways, kudos to Pharaoh on not mind-wiping Seto Kaiba this time or launching him directly off this very tall tower like he attempted to do last time. They actually played a game start to finish with eachother and nothing exploded except for every television in Domino. Progress.
and then Mokuba started crying and initially I thought...wouldn’t he have WANTED his brother to lose but then I kind of remembered oh yeah now Mokuba has to deal with this oncoming aftermath.
RIP Mokuba, I guess.
Anyway, I’m out of town for the rest of the weekend, escaping to the far North to get away from the weather. I should be back next weekend, but if I’m not, I was probably eaten by a bear. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to my Yugioh recaps in Chrono order from the beginning.
#ygo#yugioh#episode recap#photo recap#yugioh recap#S3 Ep36#S3 Ep37#Mokuba#Seto Kaiba#Yugi Muto#the return of the orphanage that shows up every three episodes because Seto just can't#He has to tell his life story every 3 episodes or he himself will forget#so I guess the rest of the cast just has to deal with it#Tea Gardner#Joey Wheeler#Is No longer in a Coma congrats welcome to hell#Tristan Taylor#A couple of confused Doctors#some of which are in hard hats#Mai Valentine#Who is still in the refridgerator RIP#Serenity Wheeler#Guest Appearance by Grandpa
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@kazouda picked #7 for the Soulmates AU meme!
“People are born only seeing in black and white until they find their soulmate. Then they can see in color.”
(Nothing NSFW here, just under a cut due to length. I had a really fun time plotting this out!)
"Nevermind-san, would you mind telling Souda-san it's time for lunch? He is on cleaning duty today so it is important he's here on time," Yukizome asked politely to Sonia, who had just down to her own meal with her friends.
She wasn't one to refuse a request from a teacher. Sonia sighed, said a quick apology to Peko and Fuyuhiko, and left. Quite frankly, she felt rather extraneous around them, but that wasn't uncommon. They finally saw the world in color after admitting their feelings to one another. So did most of Class 77-B and Hope's Peak Academy at this point, leaving Sonia as one of the last few in their grade to see the world in shades of gray. Though it hadn't been for lack of trying.
The King and Queen of Novoselic hadn't begun to panic when their daughter saw every eligible member of the kingdom's aristocracy in black and white. They even had kept their concerns at bay when, after a week-long celebration of parties and balls, their only daughter and heir to the throne saw every future earl, duke, and second-in-line prince across Europe in the same limited color palette as she saw her favorite films, anime, and comic books. But when they'd paraded their daughter like Prince Charming in Cinderella, encouraging every eligible bachelor in Novoselic to meet the Princess and still her sight remained limited, they began to worry for both the future of the country and their daughter's mental stability.
Sonia walked briskly down the hallway, keeping her gaze on the door and avoiding the windows. Deep down she was happy for her peers, including those like Sayaka Maizono and Leon Kuwata who were sprawled underneath a tree in the front courtyard with a guitar and a stack of sheet music. But for now, she had to control her frustration, her anger, at not only feeling like an inadequate leader but an inadequate person. Sonia gritted her teeth, pushing open the heavy door to the stairwell as she made her way to the ground floor.
She took the stairs three at a time, her quickened pace forcing her to focus on the task at hand and instead of her own thoughts. Her place at Hope's Peak Academy was already a precarious one: The headmaster, though impressed with her linguistic, mathematical, and negotiation skills, had raised initial objects due to her transfer. Her previous boarding school, In Utero, had decided to expel Novoselic's future queen after a viscount had publicly humiliated Sonia in front of her entire class.
"Those colors don't go together!" Frederick, viscount Hanworth, sneered at Sonia's painting. The viscount had been fortunate: at nine, he had met his soulmate early on and had been a proud authority on the beauty of color. Due to resources and connections, most of the students of In Utero had followed suit by age 14: everyone except their future Queen.
"They're fine!" Sonia proclaimed, dipping her brush into a shade of gray to add to her painting of Novoselic's castle. She hadn't wanted to be excluded from a class just because she could not see colors, but it wasn't without its problems.
"Don't be an idiot! What castle has hot pink walls and neon yellow and blue turrets?" Frederick rolled his eyes, grabbing the canvas off of Sonia's easel and holding it high in the air, prompting the laughter of a class of middle schoolers.
It had been like this for years, the sons and daughters of Novoselic's esteemed peerage and newly rich alike picking on the one who outranked them all. A future monarch who couldn't even see the rich green hills, slate blue mountains, and pink Edelweiss flowers that dazzled inhabitants and tourists alike was a joke.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Sonia screamed, tears running down her face as she ripped the canvas from his hands before punching him squarely in the jaw. Her extensive training on modern warfare, including basic martial arts, had resulted in a broken nose and the loss of two teeth for the viscount. Despite Sonia's title, both the school and her family felt it would be best for her to transfer: out of In Utero, out of Novoselic, and out of Europe, in the vain hope there was a hidden baron or conglomerate heir who would allow her to open her eyes for the very first time.
"Why does Yukizome insist I find him all the time. He does have other friends," Sonia questioned aloud, pushing open the door on the ground floor and stepping out into the late spring sunshine. Kazuichi's preferred workspace was kept far away from the main school building, primarily for everyone's safety. The garage was prone to explosions from various projects, some strong enough to shake the school's foundations.
When she'd arrived at Hope's Peak, her reputation had preceded her. After a cold, embarrassing introduction to Japan's wealthiest heir, Byakuya Togami, her family thought it was best for her to remain at his academic institution in the hope of meeting more exceptional potential soulmates. Whispers from her fellow students as well as the news coverage of Europe's most eligible princess being whisked away nearly every weekend for a social obligation had turned her presence at Hope's Peak into continuous gossip. It had been only Kazuichi Souda who had shown any interest in her outside of her condition. Instead he'd focused on her crown after they met, which had irritated her more than her inability to appreciate a rainbow after thunderstorm. But he had shown her kindness when no one else did, introducing her to his closest friends, Nagito Komaeda and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. The trio had then welcomed the company of Peko Pekoyama, Chiaki Nanami, and a reserve course student, Hajime Hinata, to form a merry band of Ultimate Misfits. It became only natural for them to take Sonia under their protection, and instead of dutifully studying outside of class hours, the group embraced frivolity at the arcade, karaoke, cafes, and more. The Ultimates relied on Hinata to introduce them to the life of normal students and in turn, they welcomed him into their friendship just as he was. And Sonia had been grateful: their loyalty was perhaps the only thing that kept the whispers and jeers from eating away her heart.
"Souda!" Sonia shouted, approaching the garage. Whatever he was building, it was too large to be contained in the enclosure so Sonia squinted up, attempting to find him on top of a mountain of junk and spare parts. "Yukizome-sensei is going to assign detention, again, if you don't come back to the classroom for lunch! You understand that if you receive one more, you won't be able to attend the summer festival!?"
The Ultimate Misfits had already begun their summer plans: trips to the beach, the amusement park, anything to celebrate their final summer as high school students. The local summer festival was also not to be missed, full of food booths, carnival games, and most importantly, a fireworks show. Fireworks weren't foreign to Sonia, but they were supposedly best experienced in color. Peko and Fuyuhiko certainly wouldn't have trouble seeing the kaleidoscopic display in the night sky, and while they were less forthcoming about it, Naigto, Chiaki, and Hajime did not seem concerned about their enjoyment of the festival's main event.
It had been Kazuichi who'd listened to her qualms. In an attempt to mollify her, he'd insisted that it wouldn't be a problem for 'Miss Sonia,' and that they'd all miss her company, he'd miss her company, if she stayed behind in the dorms to watch Bela Lugosi as Dracula for the millionth time. It wasn't the colors of the fireworks that had made the summer festival important, he'd explained, but the time spent together.
"Souda, are you listening!?" Sonia's yell grew louder in an attempt to talk over the loud engine that had picked up speed and volume. She was no expert, that was his forte, but even she knew something didn't sound right. "Yukizome-sensei will keep you after school into the summer vacation and you'll miss everything!"
It all happened in an instant. The engine on top of the pile continued to roar until it exploded into a cloud of smoke and oil, splattering the junkpile and Sonia herself. She fell to her knees coughing, grease covering her hair, her face, and all over her uniform. Due to his work, she was now a complete mess.
"S-Souda!" Sonia gasped, rubbing her eyes furiously in an attempt to see clearly, "You need to be more careful! Look at what you've...done..."
The shades of gray she'd previously attributed to the daytime sky now seemed to shine a bright hue she'd never seen. She squinted, the brilliant sky blue shade overwhelming her vision as she took in the world around her: a junkpile in various earthy tones and brass metallic components, the silver-metal paneled garage, and a soda bottle with a bright red label. And at the summit of the scrap mountain, she saw two of the colors she'd been teased about so long ago: hot pink and blue, as Kazuichi emerged from the mess. And while she could've attributed her tears to the oil that ran into her eyes, Sonia knew that this time, she cried tears of joy at the bold, radiant colors that didn't clash at all. Instead, they'd burrowed deep into her heart, waiting for her to finally embrace them.
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-- Orpheus’ Epilogue--
EISLIE
The iron gates were shut, words emblazoned on the sigil at its center reading bold and clear:
SALUS IN ARDUIS
It was the same words that had been written in neat, capitalized font on the single website Eislie had found for the college that claimed to lie within. From the bars, she could just barely make out the shape of buildings over the crest of a hill and down a dusty dirt road.
What she could not make out though, was a call box or any other means to let someone know she was here.
Which was typical. Any college that couldn’t even bother to update its website probably didn’t think much about simple, practical things like gate accessibility. The entire website, still up in a tab on Eislie’s phone, looked like something a middle schooler from 1997 would slap together on Geosites. Its background was a tiled with watermarked symbols of the school's emblem, a typically greek-esque laurel wreath around a barely discernible shield containing more symbols. Other than a brief box of text detailing the schools foundation date and location, Eislie had not found one contact number or email address. So it was safe to say the administration was stuck in the 90s too... or long gone.
A quick search however showed the school’s doors were still open and with a humble, yet respectable enrollment count of roughly 143 students and a staff of roughly eleven professors, not counting any assistants. There was even an on campus dormitory, a track and a respectable sports field, though the grainy photos on the website were from the early 1900s or perhaps even later.
A breeze cut the heat from the tendrils of August that clung still to the early September air, churning the otherwise stifling warmth into something tolerable. Eislie frowned, blowing a strand of brown hair from her face and turning back to look at her Uber driver, who was waiting patiently in the front seat of their sedan.
That she had even been able to find an Uber driver was a miracle in itself, the small town of Kilead the only sign of life within a several mile radius. That Eislie had never heard of it before, despite having lived barely an hour out of the way, was another peculiarity. It was as if, without even actively trying, both Kilead and Anthea College were absent from the notice of the rest of the world. Content to ignore and be ignored.
Even her driver had been perplexed at her directions, having to search his GPS numerous times for the town and eventually having to settle with dropping a pin in the nearest vicinity. What had started as a quaint ride however, Eislie could tell was quickly becoming a troublesome one. The driver poked his head out of his rolled down window, floppy blond hair carried up in a gust of wind.
“Yo— so you good? You want me to stick ‘round?”
He was no doubt, fresh outta high school, spending his last summer making a few quick bucks before starting his own college career. Decidedly not here by the way he wrinkled his nose at the uniforms and old-fashioned looking brick buildings on the website Eislie showed him at the beginning of the trip.
Eislie had hoped for a short visit, a quick stop and drop-- Hey you guys sent me a schedule and an alarmingly expensive bill, but I’m pretty sure I have never gone here so check your files. Please and thanks.
The letter and its envelope were tucked into her book bag, slung over both shoulders to keep from putting too much weight on either side and worsening her limp. That limp was also the reason for the Uber driver to begin with.
“No… I’ll be okay. I think I saw a local cab company when I was searching things out, so you can uh— go.”
Eislie had a feeling she’d regret this decision, even as the driver beamed, happy to be released. He gave her a short wave and rolled up his window, backing out from the shaded drive at breakneck speed. The sound of the revving engine sent a shudder down Eislie’s back. It had only been three years since her own accident, the one that had left her with a limp, a head full of fractured and faded memories and massive, sudden migraines.
The doctors had said she was a marvel, recovering her facilities and basic functions the fastest they had seen in an auto-related head injury. Eislie had long since grown past being self-conscious of the small burst of scar tissue on her left temple, receding her hairline right along the puffy skin. It was more annoying now than anything to have to recount the story of how she got it.
Long legging or jeans kept wandering eyes from the surgical scars on her leg where they had put her right shinbone back together and from the rather ugly and impressive one where the compound fracture had originated.
Eislie was grateful for the head injury for taking the memories of the impact and the pain with it.
The drive up to the buildings did not look overly long and she had a collapsible cane prepared should her leg start giving her trouble. The problem was, and remained, the gate.
Frowning, Eislie stepped forward, drawing her palm over the latin motto, running her thumb over the edge of the metal and noting the green smudge of barely-there moss on her skin.
This was a bad idea. Maybe if she acted quick she could get the Uber back and just go home. Send a strongly worded letter again and hope this time they stop sending her past-due notices and speeding her anxiety into hyperdrive.
Granted, how many Eislie Bishop’s were there in the world? It was entirely possible she had applied for classes at Anthea once, back in the dark space where her memories were fuzzy and faded like an under-exposed photograph. When she asked her mother on the subject, she’d brushed off her concern with stilted, clipped words. Not her usual response to Eislie’s attempts to get reassurance.
Leave it alone. Just ignore it. Miranda had said.
Eislie sighed and turned from the gate. Her foot caught her ankle, shorting the distance needed to lift passed. In an instant, her right leg fluttered and gave out, a swear managing to spit from her lips before she toppled backwards. Eislie twisted to grab onto the bars of the gate for support, another shocked shriek coming from her throat as the gates swung open, dragging her through the dirt.
Eislie blinked, pushing up onto her hands and knees and glaring down the open iron gate with a withering stare.
“No witnesses...” she murmured to herself, taking the opportunity to slip off her bag and take her cane out. Clearly she had misjudged her own clumsiness level for the day, a mistake she would not be making again.
Eislie brushed the dirt from her jeans and used her cane for support to rise back up to her feet. Turning one last time, she looked at the open gate and the road out from it. She shrugged and left it, minding her footing as she began the slow trek down the path and towards the college.
--
By the time she reached the crest of the hill, coming down onto the beautifully tended grounds of Anthea College, it had become obvious to Eislie that either the college boasted the most unfriendly assortment of students she had ever seen-- or she was genuinely not meant to be here.
The students were of a variety of ages, looking anywhere from late teens to late twenties, all wearing the same smart looking dark blazers and either slacks or a skirt in matching shades. Each jacket bore the same heraldry she had seen crowned in a laurel from the website, embroidered in gold, blue and red.
Each student also bore the same slack jawed expression at the sight of her, voices erupting into hushed whispers, eyes widened and some faces even paling. Eislie had never had such a welcome in her entire life, even when her scars were new and ugly and standing out red and angry across her skin. Not even when she was in her wheelchair, not even when she was relearning how to drink without a straw and constantly dribbling on her clothes.
Eislie, at first, did her best to keep her head high, eyes ahead, but after a constant stream of students taking wide steps from her approach and chatter breaking out the moment she passed she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes from her feet instead.
The buildings looked to all have been built around the same period, sturdy and well-made with rough, brown bricks. Ivy dominated the side of one building, it’s double doors were dated but handsome, the dark wood contrasting against its own bright brass hinges. A small plated sign left of the door read in plain lettering-- Administrative Building. If that wasn’t the office she needed, Eislie knew someone could probably point her in the right direction… and anything was preferable than continuing to be among so many gawking expressions.
Eislie carefully made her way up the small set of stairs, a slight ache making her lean a bit more onto her cane. The walk had not been unpleasant, but it had been quite a ways further than she had thought it would be.
Strangely, all feeling of exhaustion left her as she came to stand fully in front of the arched doorway. Eislie all at once felt something warm in her chest, a feeling of contentment, of comfort. It was as if, all at once, this was no stranger, but a familiar face. A peaceful place. A home. Eislie reached out and touched the curved handle and jumped when static sparked from her fingertips.
The air was not dry.
Eislie slowly reached for the door again, settling her palm onto the handle and her thumb upon the latch and found her thoughts forming together into a single phrase—
Welcome home...
But the voice was not of her own mind. It was softer, indiscernible in its gender or age. Eislie felt her eyelids droop and her body lighten as she pressed down the latch and pushed forward.
The door did not budge.
Before Eislie could even think to pull instead, the door abruptly opened outward, the heavy wood edge hitting into her and knocking her backwards.
Her reflexes had been enough to avoid injury, but not to avoid stumbling. Eislie dropped her cane, ready to try and break her fall backwards unto her bum and hoping to all the stars above that she did not topple right down the stairs.
But the impact never came. An arm roped around her waist and with it’s owners assistance, she righted herself within the circle of their grip.
The young man had held tightly to the opposite door handle to leverage them both, hoisting her hard against his chest.
“I’m so sorry!” Eislie burst out, desperately avoiding eye contact as she looked around for her dropped cane.
“I wasn’t paying attention, I apologize. I—”
The young man stopped, his own gaze taking in her appearance with quick successive glances. He had sharp grey eyes, framed by dark brows, both of which were slowly rising in the same look of bewilderment his fellow students had shared. In the grapple, a few strands of his smoothly gelled back hair had fallen into his face. He was handsome, that much went without saying, with a sharp nose that curved downward slightly and high cheekbones. Very Glory Days Gregory Peck, if Gregory’s Peck’s mother had been from Asia. The man he would become had not quite yet completely overtaken the boyish looks of his face.
In short, Eislie had no issue with his close proximity. A smile spread over her lips, rude manners of these Anthea kids be damned.
“Mutual apologies?” Eislie prompted when the young man did not speak again. He released her quickly, his expression not one of confusion anymore, but certainly not one of friendliness. Despite that, he picked up her cane and handed it back to her.
“Thanks! I’m actually looking for the enrollment office, I think I’ve been receiving someone else's mail and wow. They were not kidding when they called this place exclusive. Like, ‘could you add a couple more zero’s to the end of that balance’ right?”
“It’s inside.” the young man said curtly, stepping out of the way and holding the door open for her. He would not look at her, in fact, Eislie noted, his eyes were fixed on her cane. She could hardly blame him, it was a flashy design and had coloring as shiny and luminescent as an oil spill.
“Style and function, right?” Eislie said, trying to break the tension as she gave the cane a little wiggle. The young man looked at her then, something pained in the way he turned his lips down into a frown.
Yikes. Not her best material, she guessed. Eislie stepped through the doorway and turned back,
“Do you—”
But before she could get the question out, the young man had released the heavy door and it fell shut.
So much for hospitality.
#wip; orpheus' epilogue#writeblr#camp nano july 2021#camp nanowrimo july 2021#writing#writing excerpt#what i got so far!
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To Leave, or Not To Leave....
Yesterday afternoon, my two sons (Liam, 10, and Rowan, 8) and I piled in my mother-in-law’s car to go to see the Acapella Jam put on by the local high schools. Rowan just discovered Pentatonix, a group that is famous for singing acapella and having a really cool beat boxer. Rowan has also been very into YouTube, so he had recently had me log into our family account so he could post a video of himself imitating Pentatonix, in particular the beatboxer. I noticed how good he naturally was in catching a beat and imitating sounds. One of my old students saw his YouTube video and sent me an invitation to the Acapella Jam. She specifically said, “Hey your son Rowan? He would really like this. You should come!!” So, we marked our calendars.
We sat down - Liam by the aisle, then me, Rowan, and the boys’ Mum-Mum - and a few middle school groups were performing on the stage, prior to the main performances. They were beginning singers, playing around with the harmonies and spitting beats that were slightly to the left and right of the actual rhythm. Rowan sort of perked his ears up and scooted towards the front of his seat, perching almost. He said to me, “Those guys are kind of good.” I said, “Yeah, they are.” Liam (Rowan’s brother) sat to the left of me, beaming from ear to ear, saying how this group was “SO AWESOME!” in a really emphatic voice, eyes wide with awe. The middle schoolers left the stage, and the emcee emerged, announcing the official start of the program. All of the sudden a group called Vocal Point emerged, hushing the crowd into a pulsating silence. The singers stood in a semicircle, and one voice shattered the silence - and then all of the voices on stage were one, moving up and down the music scale like rich satin. The background was peppered with the stylish beats of a beatboxer who hummed rhythms with his eyes closed, feeling the music flowing in and out of his soul. His beats were his breaths. I looked over at Rowan, and he sat with his head in his lap, rocking back and forth and side to side. His hands were on his ears and his face was drawn up in distress.
I couldn't tell what he was feeling. Was he in pain? Was the music hurting him? Was this his choice, or was this a reflex? Was he “getting” why we were here - why people like to hear music? I asked him if he was okay and all he said was, “I'm hungry,” and then he put his head back down and kept rocking. The applause between the sets sent him driving his fists into his ears, and I asked him if he wanted to leave. He said, “No, but when is the last song?” I didn’t know what to make of that response. Is he okay with this? Does he need a schedule? Would a program of musical performances have helped? After a few more songs into the event, he stated that he wanted to go home. He looked at me, hands cupping his ears, and then leaned over onto my lap.
As a parent, I'm not sure if I did the right thing. As his mother, I constantly question myself. Do I allow him to give into his sensitivity to sound and leave the situation, or do I push him to do what's socially acceptable? Am I hurting him? My mother-in-law sat to the right of Rowan, and she kept looking at me questioningly, asking if he was okay and leaning over to redirect his behavior from time to time. Should I be disciplining him for this behavior - even though so much of it seemed to be more of a reflex than an intentional desire to disrupt or disrespect?
I didn't know what the right thing was to do, and it’s a stress that’s constantly pressing me. I'm writing this blog post because I imagine parents of autistic children very often work through situations like this alone. We don't know what the right thing to do is, and there's no one to ask but our own intuition. I feel as if everyone I meet has advice to give. There are the extremists, those out there who don't believe autism exists. I see them rant on social media outlets, proclaiming that autism is a result of bad parenting. They post videos of children having meltdowns in grocery stores or department stores, and they caption the post with something like, “That boy would be be slapped across the head in my home,” or “This is why my mama spanked me.” I understand the frustration. I've been in situations where children have been misbehaving and parents seem to ignore the behavior, like it's not happening. I have to admit that I have been judgemental before as well - I think the natural tendency is for people to theoretically insert themselves into situations that annoy them, perhaps in an attempt to placate their own egos, proclaiming they could do better. I've heard countless times, “Oh, Rowan is totally capable of understanding what he's doing,” or, “You're going to let Rowan do that?” And I listen.
And usually I'm silent. I don't want to have an argument about my parenting style in front of my son, because that's not my parenting style. To be honest, I’m still in the process of figuring out what my parenting style IS when it comes to Rowan. I feel like I don't know enough. I don't know when to get up and leave a music performance. I don't know when I need to tell him to put his hands over his ears and stick it out. I don’t know if it’s a bad idea to take him to events in general. I don't know so many things, and it tugs on me daily. What I do know is that today Rowan reluctantly sat through a performance of young acapella singers and witnessed a competition of beatboxers, many of whom were my former students. He even met one of them after the show. I just wanted to give him some exposure to music culture, because I feel like I so often choose to avoid situations like this and just stay home all day - where it’s SAFE.
On the way home, I asked Rowan if he had a good time. He nodded and said, “I will tell you that I enjoyed it and I will actually tell you something in secret when we get home.”
When we got home, Rowan told me, “Mommy - I.L.M.”
I said, “What does that mean?”
He smiled and said, “Well…’I’ is actually the word. You know, the word, ‘I.’”
I said, “Yep. Got that. What else?”
He opened his expressive blue eyes and said, “Well, the next letter is ACTUALLY the first letter of another word.”
I thought briefly, squinting my brows together in over-emphasized concentration. “Love?” I asked.
“YES!! Very good, Mommy. And the last letter is a first word of another word.”
“Music!” I exclaimed.
“YES!!” and with that declaration, he spun and zipped into the front room, beatboxing a tune as he went.
I guess - at least this time - my intuition was right.
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CanvasWatches: The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan
In the fine tradition of the Franchise and also my viewing of it, we’re skipping Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya[1] and moving straight to The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, which inexplicably maintains the name order for the title.
I am often confused by Japanese names in media that’s been localized. Character names are often obvious, because speech and grammar and context makes it clear whether its the given name or family name being used by the speaker, but I’m not always clear with credits. Do publishers switch the author’s name on the book, or do they maintain it?[2]
I’m not actually sure how I want names ordered in dubs, while we’re going through this tangent. I view both arguments (Accuracy to the original text vs. Approachability to new audiences) as largely equal, so as long as the text maintains consistency, I’m satisfied.[4]
However, the actual show switches the names, making it inconsistent with the title. Poor showing, Funimation.
As for the subject of today's review, the conclusion is: I liked it! Maybe one should view it as a continuation on the rest of Haruhi Suzumiya to better catch the jokes and nods, but it’s not necessary.
Onto the analysis! (Spoilers for all of Haruhi Suzumiya, though I will try and avoid major plot points not in Yuki-chan itself.)
Right off the bat, Yuki-Chan fixes the greatest sin committed by the original source material: Yuki gets to keep her glasses!
Let there be rejoicing! Yay! Woo!
In fact, glasses are used as a subtle narrative device, making them a required prop.
The anime is adapted by a comic written by Puyo, who also created the Haruhi-chan comics that were adapted into animation themselves. Haruhi-chan was an extensively goofy version of the Haruhi canon, and includes its own ongoing interpretation of the plot and characters.
Yuki-chan sits in a comfortable midpoint between realistic and cartoonish, with a good balancing of tone, and brings elements from both Haruhi-chan and Nagaru Tanigawa’s source novels. The comedy’s good, the drama’s good, and it flows well between them.
The setting itself comes from one of my favorite ways to find inspiration: looking at the throw-away details of other narratives, and exploring the logical extreme.
In this case, what is it like in the other world created for The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya?[5] What stories can be told when you grab Haruhi, strip her of god powers, and set her over there, and settle everyone else into normal human forms?
This is an exercise I think writers should take more often. It’s a common trope in fanfiction for a reason.[6] Stories are often built from extraordinary people in extraordinary circumstances, but good characterization should prevail even if you take away the magic and monsters, and set everyone in a coffee shop. How do Yuki and Kyon get along when they aren’t saving the world?
And, more interestingly, who is Yuki when she’s no longer a Humanoid Interface for the Data Overmind?[7] Because it’s equally valuable to consider what changes when you remove elements from characters.
What does change is Yuki becomes the shy, bookish (well, video game playing) girl that would be her common trope. But she’s also oddly voracious in regards to food, and has her share of quirky behaviors to match those of, say, Tsuruya.
This version of Yuki is also notably the first Moe character to actually appeal to me. I am invested in Yuki, and want her to succeed!
Because one of the opening conceits is a lack of Haruhi, (at least initially. Ms. Suzumiya does, of course, always find a way) Yuki’s literary club doesn’t get forcibly hijacked into the SOS Brigade, though it is at risk of closure due to lack of members. Also, as a nice meta gag, the production team’s name has been switch from ‘SOS Brigade’ in the closing credits to ‘North High Literary Club’.[7]
When we open the series, only Yuki and Kyon from the original cast are immediately present, along with Ryoko Asakura, who originally only existed long enough to attack Kyon with a knife and be deleted by Yuki, so as to show off what sort of power and danger Yuki and her contingent presents.
Since there is no Data Mind, Ryoko gets to be a main character, and thus act as a major change to the dynamics we’re used to. She’s a lower energy member of the ‘enactors’ end of the cast. Motivated by her friendship by Yuki, and a caring individual, she is still one of the few characters able to stand toe to toe with Haruhi without risk of being swept up into something against her will.
Her element of wackiness, however, is gleefully displayed during the first episode when, while shopping for the Literary Club’s Christmas Party, the trio encounters Mikuru and Tsuruya, to continue making the most of characters that didn’t get to fully shine during Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, and someone needs to be pushing Mikuru into situations.
Tsuruya and Ryoko begin pitting Yuki and Mikuru against one another for Kyon’s affections, before competing against one another directly, forming a friendship, and pretty much enlisting Tsuruya and Mikuru into the literary club.
Luckily, Mikuru is allowed out of the love triangle for this story. She’s still the soft spoken eye candy, but even that element’s toned down. Honestly, Mikuru could’ve been cut without making much difference, but we do need the full brigade eventually.
No, this time the love triangle (still pointing into Kyon) is a fight between Yuki and Haruhi!
Haruhi rejoins the dynamic by leaping out of snow-covered bushes in a post-credits scene of episode two, then collapsing on the ground. In this reality, a lot of the big events remain, but the details are shifted so that fantastic elements are no longer required. Kyon was still present when Haruhi drew her message on school grounds, but he was present as his middle schooler self, it doesn’t lead to Haruhi’s god powers, and the lack of Future!Kyon means Haruhi isn’t inspired to go to North High, and instead enrolling at a Prep School stationed at the base of the hill.
It’s also notable that Haruhi attempted to recreate the event during the series, but this time it’s a ploy to capture Santa Claus[8], and drafted a passing Yuki into it. It takes both of them a while to realize this, as Yuki forgot her glasses, and it was dark at the time.
Obviously, Haruhi immediately sets about taking over the literary club, dragging in Itsumi (also at the Prep School, and hopelessly in love with Haruhi), closes the deal with recruiting Mikuru, and hits the other notes of the original canon.
However, this time Ryoko is there to prevent Haruhi totally running rampant. Which is likely for the best, since it’s supposed to be Yuki’s story. Which even Haruhi seems to realize at some level.
Because Haruhi’s clearly got a crush on Kyon, but he doesn’t remember the night in the courtyard. And, at the same time, Yuki’s very clearly interested (not that Kyon notices that either) and Ryoko makes it very clear that Yuki deserves her shot. After some Valentine's Day confusion, Haruhi pretty much silently concedes the competition to even the playing field with consideration of Yuki’s social anxiety.
The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-Chan could be divided into three arcs, following the interpersonal issues of three characters: Yuki, Other Yuki, and finally Kyon.
Yuki’s arc is more or less what I described above, as it also needs to introduce the cast. Yuki loves Kyon,[9] who is oblivious, because of course he is. Yuki has pretty severe Social Anxiety, however, and thus can not spit out her feelings, even while sharing a coat during a Christmas Party, or during Valentine's day, or during a club trip, even while being cheered on by the other club members.
Poor girl.
There’s the usual misunderstandings, fear of ruining a perfectly functional friendship, distractions by Ryoko and Haruhi, and plenty of ship teases.
Still, the stretch of episodes is filled with plenty of Haruhi-Chan style humor and chibified moments. I also found myself, in a rare instance, noticing the background music, which was all lovely.[10] It’s standard romance material, which isn’t a genre I usually seek out, so the first nine episodes were both fresh enough to me, and with well executed comedy.
Then, after the credits of episode Nine, Nagato is involved in a car accident. We don’t see the impact, so there’s just enough ambiguity not to make the audience question the results.
We do know Yuki’s glasses are knocked off and bent. Oh no!
But don’t worry, Yuki has a back up pair of glasses.
Also, she’s got some level of brain damage now, altering her personality to be very similar to the Yuki we know from past material. Thus enters Other Yuki. Marked by the slightly different glasses she wears.
Told you they’d be significant.
Thus we enter a more psychological and ponderous arc. Starting with an episode entitled ‘Someday in the Rain’.[11]
This Other Yuki has the memories of Yuki Nagato, of course, but feels a disconnect from them and her life from before the car accident. With that disconnect, her emotions are also gone, leaving a monotone and subdued character in. Her interests also turn from video games to books.
Or, in other terms, the Data Overmind Yuki. Though not really. I’ll come back to this.
She attempts to go undetected, living Yuki’s life, trying to leave it in the same shape as she found it.
Though it doesn’t work on her closest friend, as Ryoko asks ‘Who are you, and where is Yuki Nagato?’
Which is a very dramatic way to phrase that, Ryoko!
So, for a short spell, I theorised that maybe this is the Humanoid Interface Yuki stepping in for the period covered by Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya. However, they didn’t put in any other clues to that interpretation, and the healing process that gradually brings back Yuki makes it essentially untenable as a theory. This series is severed totally from the Prime Timeline.
Yuki explains her situation to Ryoko, who drags her to see a dang doctor, like, come on girl, that’s step one. The doctor confirms there’s no apparent damage, and that Yuki merely needs time to recover, including plenty of sleep.
Yuki continues to live the life of a High Schooler through exams, as Ryoko and Kyon worry over her out of earshot. They’re unsure how to feel about this Other Yuki, but resolve to do their best.
So, as Other Yuki narrates, we hear the story of a robot developing emotions and attachments, brought in by her healing, told over of the course of four episodes. This includes fearing what is essentially her death, as once she finishes healing, Other Yuki will be gone, replaced by her body’s original owner. Emotions are mixed for all involved, as of course they want their Yuki back, but they also grow attached to Other Yuki and don’t wish to see her go fully.
On what Other Yuki knows will be her last day, with only one sleep remaining, she spends time at a used book fair, then as much time with Ryoko as possible, before heading to the library to finish reading a book she checked out before she’s gone.
Once that’s done, one final task remains as sleep begins to come for her, she phones Kyon to confess her love. Also to ask him to return the book for her.
She’ll be dead in a minute, so why not?
Kyon races to meet with her before she’s gone, but finds a napping Yuki once he reaches the bench outside the library. Other Yuki is gone.
Which leaves the remaining episodes of the series to deal with the fallout of the situation. Ryoko, sad to see Other Yuki go, collects herself quickly and resumes her life. Yuki seems to have lost her memories from the period, and I don’t think anyone tells her what happened in the interim.
Kyon is unsure what to do, as he realizes he’d fallen in love with Other Yuki.
Further, Haruhi has to deduce the events, as exams had kept her and Koizumi away. She encourages Kyon to work through his confusion.
I hand the final arc to Kyon because the roles switch places from the first arc, with Yuki blissfully unaware of Kyon’s feelings as Kyon is overthinking everything. It’s an interesting turn around.
Eventually, during a festival, Kyon uses the sound of fireworks to cover up his own love confession, as a symbolic message to the Other Yuki, so that he can finally let go and move on.
Which leaves us in the stalemate we began with: Yuki loves Kyon, and Kyon is blissfully unaware, even though Other Yuki’s confession should be a hint.
And maybe it is, as we don’t get to see much more.
Honestly, I’d be satisfied if this is where the Anime Adaption remains. I know of the Manga, of course, but short of a second head injury, Other Yuki is not likely to return, and it’s her segment that gives weight and purpose to the series. We’ve told the story of both Yukis disappearing, so it’s complete in my mind.
I’d much rather the resources be put instead into continuing adapting the Haruhi Suzumiya books.
The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan works best as a companion to Melancholy, but I believe it’s strong enough on it’s own legs if you prefer. Yuki is an endearing character, the titular arc is a strong tale of melancholy (ha!), and it’s an enjoyable ride. So give it a go.
If you have comments, questions, or loose thoughts, feel free to contact me and I’ll attempt to meet them with due diligence. If you want to support me, my projects, and/or fund me getting a dog, please check out my Patreon. If it ever gains traction, I’ll modify it to reward people with things they like. I aim to amuse.
Kataal kataal.
[1] Funimation has secured the license, I’ve preordered it, it’ll come.
[2] I’m mostly wondering about Isuna Hasekura’s[3] name, as I intend to use it for fun reference times.
[3] Author of Spice & Wolf.
[4] Nevertheless, Haruhi Suzumiya sounds better to my ear than Suzumiya Haruhi. That may be habit, though.
[5] I am using the english title because that’s what I know it as.
[6] Does Yuki-chan count as fanfiction? The lines blur!
[7] Sneaking Yuki’s name into the credits would have cinched it, but, alas…
[8] Possibly a nice nod to Kyon’s famous opening monologue.
[9] Whose real name we still do not know, though this series explains how the nickname passed from his sister to others.
[10] There’s a particular Jazz number that first crops up during the mall sequence in the first episode that recurs. I should probably search out that track…
[11] Trying to use nostalgia of my favorite Haruhi episode to evoke an emotional response, eh? It worked.
#CanvasWatches#The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya#haruhi suzumiya#disappearance of nagato#CanvasReviews
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