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mononijikayu · 4 months

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what are you doing new year's eve? ― nanami kento

The cafe was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them. Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

GENRE: Post - Jujutsu High, 2010s;

WARNING/s: Love at First Sight, Humor, Fluff, Hurt, Mild Angst, Emotional Scars, Mentions of Guilt, Depiction of Depression, Learning to Live with Grief, Moving Forward;

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listen: what are you doing new year's eve by ella fitzgerald

malmö i mitt hjärta | what are you doing new year's eve

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HE THINKS HE SHOULD HAVE WORN A WARMER COAT. Nanami Kento could feel his nose numbing as he tried to breathe air into his already exasperated lungs. He knew it was far too cold to wear this sort of coat. But he did not feel like going back into the house and scrambling through his winter clothes. He also did not want to see his grandmother fuss over him. She worries as much as his mother.

As much as he loved them both, he did not want them to worry too much about him. The cold could be bearable. But perhaps his restlessness was not. He needed to get out of the house. He just couldn’t take the four walls of his room anymore. He wouldn’t be able to bear it much longer.

The bitter wind, crisp and biting, meandered through the labyrinthine streets of Copenhagen, weaving its way around the ancient architecture that bore witness to the city's rich history. Each gust carried with it the distinctive scent of the nearby sea, a salty whisper that spoke of untold tales and distant horizons. In this Nordic city, where the air was charged with the essence of maritime adventure, Nanami Kento walked with purpose.

A year had passed since Nanami made the daring decision to sever ties with the tumultuous world of jujutsu. The echoes of battles fought and sacrifices made lingered in his memory, but the decision to leave it all behind had granted him a newfound sense of freedom. Seeking solace from the haunting shadows of his past, he found refuge in the comforting embrace of his grandparents' home—a haven nestled in the heart of this foreign land.

The cobblestone streets beneath his boots whispered tales of centuries gone by, and the vibrant hues of the buildings stood in stark contrast to the monochrome memories Nanami had left behind. In the midst of this cultural tapestry, he discovered solace, a respite from the constant turmoil that had defined his life.

As he walked through the city, the wind tugged at the collar of his coat, a reminder of the world he had chosen to leave behind. Yet, there was a promise in the air, an intangible current that hinted at new beginnings. Copenhagen, with its fusion of tradition and modernity, offered Nanami a canvas on which to paint the next chapter of his life.

Arriving at the doorstep of his grandparents' home, he felt the weight of the wooden door, weathered by time and stories. It swung open to welcome him, and the warmth within enveloped him like a familiar hug. The walls whispered tales of his own childhood, and the aroma of his grandmother's cooking wafted through the air, grounding him in the present.

In this foreign land, amidst the echoes of harsher winters than that of his own, Nanami discovered the beauty of starting anew. The bitter wind, though relentless, became a companion on his journey of self-discovery. As the sea-scented breeze caressed his face, he couldn't help but feel that, in Copenhagen, he had found a sanctuary—a place where the echoes of the jujutsu world could finally be drowned out by the soothing symphony of a city that embraced him without judgment.

It was a crisp winter morning, the kind that painted the world in hues of silver and white. Nanami Kento ambled through the narrow, quaint streets of the city, a foreign canvas upon which his footsteps left imprints of newfound freedom. The Nordic air, crisp and invigorating, filled his lungs with each breath, replacing the dense, suffocating atmosphere of the jujutsu world with the promise of serenity.

As he meandered through the snow-covered landscape, the weight that had burdened his shoulders for so long began to dissipate. The Scandinavian calm enveloped him like a soothing balm, soothing the wounds inflicted by battles fought and choices made. The city, adorned in its winter finery, seemed to cradle Nanami in its embrace, offering respite from the storm he had weathered.

Yet, in the quiet moments of solitude, Nanami couldn't escape the specters of his past. The thought of Mikoto Nobuhiko lingered in the recesses of his mind—the glistening eyes, the unspoken emotions that danced between them as they parted ways in the dorms. The memories of youth, now distant echoes, resurfaced, particularly the haunting image of standing before a cobblestone tomb where a dear friend rested, taken too soon. Nanami often found himself plagued by self-blame, haunted by the belief that he could have done more, that he could have altered the course of fate.

In the quiet of Copenhagen's winter, he couldn't shake the dreams of Yu Haibara and his infectious boyish smile. The gentleness that once defined Yu, stolen away by the unforgiving hands of the cruel world, haunted Nanami's subconscious. Yet, like a mantra, he reminded himself that those days were gone, a realm he could never revisit. The past, with its joys and sorrows, had become an unalterable tapestry that no amount of yearning could unravel.

Copenhagen, with its cold tendrils caressing his skin, became a sanctuary where Nanami sought solace. The chill, instead of biting, cradled him tenderly, a reminder that he had escaped the clutches of a world he could never truly leave behind. The city, with its ancient charm and modern allure, became a backdrop for Nanami's journey forward.

It whispered promises of a new beginning, a life unburdened by the shackles of the past. In the heart of Copenhagen, Nanami found relief, and as he navigated the snow-kissed streets, he embraced the present, determined to forge a path ahead—one guided not by regret, but by the gentle touch of a city that offered him a canvas upon which to paint the chapters of his rebirth.

The familiar street greeted him like an old friend, its cobblestones beneath his feet whispering tales of summer days gone by. Just a few months ago, Nanami Kento had wandered these same lanes during the summer break. The memories of those warm days lingered, woven into the fabric of the city's essence.

His grandfather, a jazz musician with a passion that spanned decades, had been a regular attendee of the music festival that graced the city every summer since the '70s. Kento, in tow, became a witness to the traditions that bound generations together. It had been a family affair, with his mother, equally enamored with jazz, usually accompanying them. However, that particular summer, his mother opted to spend time with his grandmother, leaving Kento with his father and grandfather.

As he traversed the familiar route, Kento couldn't help but reminisce about that summer day when the vibrant world of jazz had captured his senses. The infectious rhythm and soulful melodies had beckoned him, and he had surrendered himself to the music, if only for a brief moment. Little did he anticipate that this impromptu decision would act as a catalyst, altering the trajectory of his life.

The memories of that summer warmed his heart as he strolled through the well-trodden path. The city, once again alive with the spirit of jazz, seemed to echo with the tunes that had left an indelible mark on his soul.

And then, as if the city itself orchestrated a serendipitous encounter, he found himself standing in the same spot where destiny had intervened months ago. His gaze fell upon a young woman, her beauty transcending the ordinary. A wide smile graced her face, and her infectious laughter mingled with the music that enveloped the space. Her dress swirled around her as she danced with a partner, the joyous energy radiating from her like a beacon.

She fell into her partner's chest, laughter bubbling forth like a melody, and when she turned to face Kento, her eyes sparkled with an intensity that rivaled the sun. Before he could fathom what was happening, she took him by the hand, her eyes silently urging him to join the dance.

A playful gleam lit up her eyes as she extended her hand toward him, the vivacity in her voice cutting through the ambient jazz notes. He felt hesitant for a moment, turning to his father and grandfather with sudden panic. He did not know how to react. They nodded at him, smiling and urging him forward.

The air was charged with excitement and vibrant wonder, and as the first notes of a jazz tune enveloped them, Kento couldn't resist the magnetic pull of the music and the enchanting woman who had chosen him as her dance partner.

"Come on, don't be shy! Let the music guide you," she urged, her grin infectious, and in that instant, Nanami Kento felt a magnetic pull that transcended both time and space.

Without a word, he took her hand, and as their fingers intertwined, an unspoken connection ignited. The jazz, a melodic symphony that seemed to resonate from the very heart of the city, served as the backdrop to their impromptu dance.

The crowded space with its eclectic mix of jazz enthusiasts faded into the background as they swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the music. The world ,with its indifference and worries, ceased to exist within the warmth of the shared moment. In the heart of Copenhagen, surrounded by the echoes of jazz, Nanami Kento and the mysterious woman moved in perfect harmony.

The music, like a benevolent guide, dictated their steps, leading them through a dance that felt both spontaneous and rehearsed. As they spun and dipped, the energy of the jazz festival enveloped them, creating a cocoon where the troubles of the past and uncertainties of the future held no sway.

The woman's laughter, a melody of its own, echoed through the cobbled streets, interweaving with the jazz notes in a harmonious dance. Nanami, typically reserved and guarded, found himself surrendering to the rhythm, losing track of time and space. For those fleeting moments, the weight of the jujutsu world, the ghosts of his past, all seemed to dissipate in the cadence of their shared dance.

As the final notes of the jazz piece resonated through the air, the applause of the café's patrons brought them back to reality. The woman, still caught in the joy of the dance, turned to Nanami with a bright smile.

"That was amazing! Thank you for dancing with me," she expressed, her eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.

Nanami, a rare warmth lingering in his eyes, met her gaze. "No, thank you. It was a pleasure," he replied, a sentiment that transcended mere words.

He tried not to be embarrassed as he stepped away from her and back towards his father and grandfather. They continued to clap and laugh and praise him for doing well. Father even bragged about having taken a video and promised to show it to his mother later. He groaned about it as they continued to walk off and go to the path towards the other jazz musicians.

He did not know if it was the Danish sun that was hot all summer that made him feel so warm.

But as he turned back, seeing the young woman smile and giggle.

He was certain that the warmth he felt would stay with him throughout.

The spellbinding dance in the heart of bright, sunny Copenhagen had not only offered Nanami an escape from his past but had also kindled a connection that felt destined—a dance of a lifetime that he would carry with him, a cherished memory of a summer's day in a city that had become his unexpected refuge.

Restlessness gripped Nanami Kento with an unyielding tenacity, casting a pervasive shadow over the edges of his solitude. Within the confines of his own thoughts, dark tendrils of contemplation writhed like wildfire, unwelcome and intrusive. He loathed this emotional turbulence, an unwelcome companion that had persisted, refusing to release its hold on him even after the passage of time.

Seated with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, Nanami took deliberate, deep breaths, attempting to quell the tempest within his mind. The warmth of the beverage offered a comforting contrast to the internal chill that clung to him. It was a battle against the relentless onslaught of thoughts, a struggle against the emotions that threatened to consume him.

In this moment of quiet reflection, he pondered the futile hope that distance could sever the ties to haunting memories. He had sought solace miles and miles away, yearning to escape the accusatory gazes that whispered tales of abandonment and the painful eyes that spoke the language of goodbyes.

As he sighed, the warm breath escaping his lips seemed to carry with it the weight of unresolved emotions. Nanami couldn't escape the relentless echoes of the past, and even in the sanctuary of a quiet corner with a steaming cup before him, the turmoil within persisted. The hot chocolate, a feeble antidote, offered temporary respite, but the battle against the haunting shadows of his thoughts endured.

It was a struggle against an invisible adversary, an emotional warfare that unfolded within the confines of his own consciousness. Nanami, with each deliberate sip, attempted to find solace, seeking refuge in the simple act of indulging in the warmth of his drink. Yet, the restlessness, like an indomitable force, continued to linger, an ever-present companion on his journey through the labyrinth of his own emotions.

The familiar walls of his grandparents' home, while comforting, seemed to close in on him, urging him to escape the confines of his own thoughts. Sensing his need for reprieve, his grandfather, a sage figure of wisdom and understanding, suggested a simple remedy—take a walk.

The time-worn walls of his grandparents' home, though steeped in familiarity and the embrace of cherished memories, now seemed to tighten their grasp on Nanami Kento. Despite their comforting presence, they took on an almost oppressive quality, closing in around him like silent witnesses to the turmoil within his mind. The quietude of the rooms, once a haven, now echoed with the resonance of unspoken thoughts, urging him to seek refuge beyond the confines of his own contemplations.

His grandfather seemed to recognize the restlessness that brewed within Kento's being. Perhaps his mother has felt this way before too. Grandfather smiled at him tenderly. He was like a sage whenever Kento looked at him. It was as though he was someone who years carried the weight of experience and the gentle wisdom of time.

Certainly, he sensed the need for reprieve in his grandson's troubled heart. It was amidst this silent acknowledgment that the elderly patriarch offered a remedy as simple as it was profound—take a walk and relieve your heart with the sights of something else.

The suggestion hung in the air, laden with the unspoken understanding that sometimes, the remedy for a restless soul lay not in grand gestures or complex solutions, but in the simplicity of a deliberate step outside. The labyrinth of thoughts could often be navigated more effectively under the open sky, where the vastness of the world provided both perspective and solace.

Nanami, sensing the gravity of his grandfather's suggestion, nodded in silent agreement. It was a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that transcended generations—the understanding that, in the face of internal struggles, the wisdom of an elder could guide one towards a path of renewal.

As he stepped out into the crisp air, the creaking door behind him seemed to release not just his physical form but also the weight of his emotional burden. The world outside, bathed in the soft hues of daylight, became a canvas for introspection and healing.

Nanami's footsteps echoed the rhythm of his contemplations, each stride serving as a subtle declaration of his intent to navigate the labyrinth of his thoughts with the simple act of walking—an age-old remedy, whispered from one generation to another, under the watchful eyes of time.

The winter air greeted him coldly as he stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Copenhagen. With earphones in place, the soothing rhythms of bossa nova provided a backdrop to his aimless journey. Each step resonated with a silent yearning to untangle the threads of his restless mind.

The city unfolded before him, a tapestry of ancient charm and modern allure, and Kento wandered through its labyrinthine streets, losing himself in the rhythmic cadence of his footsteps. As the city whispered tales of its storied past, he meandered through the enigmatic alleys, the bossa nova notes acting as a companion to his contemplations.

However, fatigue eventually set in, and as if guided by an unseen force, Kento found himself standing at the entrance of a familiar courtyard. The air seemed to shimmer with a sense of déjà vu, transporting him back to the vibrant days of summer. It was as if the city itself conspired to lead him to this very spot.

Without much thought, he stepped into the charming café tucked away in the corner of the courtyard. The ambiance was a sensory symphony, the warm notes of a saxophone enveloping him like a gentle embrace. The air buzzed with the lively laughter and animated chatter of cafe-goers, creating an atmosphere that felt alive with shared joy.

Nanami chose a seat near the small stage, drawn like a moth to the enchanting voice of the singer who held court before a captivated audience. The music, a melodic potion, seemed to weave a spell around him, momentarily quieting the restlessness that had plagued his thoughts. The singer, with a voice that resonated with emotion and grace, commanded the attention of everyone present, casting a spell that transcended the ordinary.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the café and the entrancing melodies of the festival, Nanami Kento found himself once again caught in the embrace of the city's magic. The saxophone's soothing tones and the singer's enchanting voice served as a balm for his restless soul, providing a sanctuary where the worries of the world outside momentarily ceased to exist.

It was her, singing as though an angel sent from above.

Nanami Kento felt his lips part, but no words could come out.

He felt that same warmth, just as he had that summer's day in her arms.

As the musical crescendo reached its zenith, the singer's gaze, like a beacon in the dimly lit cafe, found Nanami Kento's eyes. In that ephemeral connection, a knowing smile graced her lips, a silent acknowledgment that transcended the audible notes and resonated with the unspoken language of their shared musical experience.

In that moment, it was as if a secret pact had been forged, sealed with the mutual understanding that they were both voyagers on a sonic journey, each note a stepping stone leading them to the heart of the melody.

The singer, bathed in the golden glow of the stage lights, seemed to surrender herself to the intoxicating passion of the music. Her eyes, illuminated with a spark of something indefinable, drank deeply from the chalice of its harmony, as if she were communing with a force beyond the tangible. It was a transcendent communion, where the boundaries between artist and art blurred, leaving only the essence of emotion that permeated the air.

For Kento, the allure of her presence became an irresistible force, a magnetic pull that tethered him to the heart of the performance. As he watched her, he felt not just the music but the very essence of her being infused with the atmosphere.

It was as though she and the music were indivisible entities, two sides of the same coin, each note an extension of her soul. In the canvas of the cafe, where the air hummed with the residue of melodies, life unfolded before him in the form of this captivating songstress.

The symbiosis between the singer and the music was palpable, a dance of mutual surrender. It was as though she embodied the very spirit of the composition, becoming the living, breathing manifestation of the melodies that cascaded around her.

The passion that emanated from her was contagious, and in that intimate space, Nanami Kento found himself caught in the intricate dance between artist and audience, the boundaries between their worlds momentarily dissolved.

In the presence of this goddess, life seemed to harmonize with the cadence of her voice. It was as though the cafe itself had become a sacred space, where the divinity of music and the essence of existence converged, creating a symphony that transcended the ordinary.

In those moments, as the singer basked in the afterglow of the song's climax, Nanami Kento couldn't help but feel that he had witnessed not just a performance but a manifestation of life's profound beauty.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the atmosphere of the cafe transformed into a timeless realm where Nanami Kento found himself ensconced in the spell of both music and the captivating presence of the singer. The rhythm became a pulse, and time, a fluid entity that seemed to elude the constraints of the clock. She sang, her voice a melodic river that coursed through the air, and Kento, a willing captive, lost himself in the undulating waves of sound.

Her singing was a continuous offering, a stream of prayers that flowed from her lips, each note like a sacred incantation. Kento, seated in the audience, listened with a reverence that bordered on the worshipful. It was as though he paid homage to a goddess of music, and in the repetition of the praises, he found himself entranced by the enchanting cadence that echoed through the space.

In a serendipitous twist of fate, Kento learned that she was a last-minute replacement, a sudden vacancy in the band leaving them without a singer.

Her brother, a member of the jazz band, had called her at the eleventh hour to fill the void. She chuckled at the unexpected turn of events, downplaying the praises that showered upon her. She waved them off, saying she was no singer. That she was no professional.

Yet Kento, a discerning listener, recognized the truth in those praises. They all ring true. Her voice, a celestial melody that resonated with his very soul, had woven itself into the fabric of his being.

When the final notes of the last song melted into the ether, the cafe erupted in applause. The singer, basking in the aftermath of her musical journey, cast a gentle smile in Kento's direction. It was a moment of acknowledgment, a silent exchange that transcended the applause and connected them on a level beyond the tangible.

As she prepared to leave the stage, she thanked everyone for coming. She started to say goodbye to members of the band and grinned at them, joking with them for a bit and kissed her brother's cheek and left the stage. Her brother was doing the next set as just jazz music, and so the claps and cheers finished and began anew as the band started to play once more. The cafe had turned into the bar it was at night.

The warmth of the cafe–bar gave way to the chill of the outside world. Opening the door, she let out a disgruntled sound and started complaining about the winter cold with her thick She started to stepped out into the cold, fumbling with the buttons of her winter coat. In that transitional moment, as the boundary between the magical world of music and the reality of the winter night blurred, Kento felt an unfamiliar impulse surge within him.

Seizing the opportunity, propelled by a courage he hadn't known existed, he stepped forward to bridge the gap between their worlds. The cold air hung heavy with anticipation as he took a chance, driven by an urge to break free from the silent observer and become an active participant in the unfolding drama of the night.

"Wait," the words escaped Nanami Kento's lips, a sudden impulse that caught even himself off guard. The singer turned towards him, her eyes a curious but kind inquiry, as if the melody of his voice had woven its own verse into the lingering notes of the music. "I think I know you."

Her gaze studied his face for a moment before recognition sparked in her eyes, and a smile began to blossom on her lips. "I met you, this summer. Didn't I? We danced together, just nearby!"

A nod from Kento, his heart resounding with each beat, a rhythm echoing the memories of that summer encounter. "Yes, I just... I just thought I was mistaken."

Her grin widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, you weren't. Good for you, hm?"

"I, uh... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither," she responded, her hands finding refuge in her pockets, the winter air lending warmth to her words. "But my brother needed my help, and it's his last gig for the year. I thought I should help him out."

"I see."

"What's your name?"

"Kento," he replied, the syllables escaping almost too quickly for his liking. "Kento Nanami."

"Oh, you're Japanese?" A moment of realization crossed her features, and she gracefully bowed to him. Switching to Japanese, she continued, "It's nice to meet you."

Caught off guard, he reciprocated the bow, his face reflecting a mixture of surprise and astonishment. The unexpected reunion and the sudden switch to their shared language in the heart of Copenhagen added an unforeseen twist to the unfolding moment.

She giggled as she shared her name, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if Nanami was attempting to etch it into the recesses of his memory.

"I think I should go, Nanami—kun. After all, it's getting late."

"O-oh, uh... of course."

With a casual wave, she added, "Happy New Year, Nanami-kun."

"Happy New Year," he replied, the exchange marking a momentary farewell. Yet, just as she began to turn away, an inexplicable force pulled at him.

He called out to her again. That was what stunned him. He called her name by the pure, unexpected impulse. He did not know if she will turn around. But when she turned, still smiling, he could feel his heart pound so hard in his chest. It hurt to feel so warm inside, so almost exposed to the echoes of life.

Yet he knew he wanted to be greedy, at this moment.

Nanami Kento thinks he will not be able to not speak his heart aloud.

Because deep within, he found himself reluctant to let her slip away.

Scratching the back of his head, heat flushing his face, he mumbled, "I don't really do this, and I... I don't really know what will happen after I say it. But I just had to ask."

Her grin persisted, "What is it, stranger?"

"Would you like to have a meal with me?" He mumbles out, barely coherent. "Not here....just. Let's look for a place to eat at."

The question lingered in the air, suspended between the notes of the fading jazz melody, the enchantment of Copenhagen's winter night, and the thread of connection woven through their shared history of a summer dance.

It was a daring proposition, an invitation that transcended the boundaries of the ordinary, as if the cafe–bar itself held its breath in anticipation of her response.

Her eyes, still carrying the sparkle of their shared memories, held a playful curiosity as she considered his invitation. The cafe and bar, wrapped in the quietude of the aftermath of the performance, seemed to wait with bated breath for her answer.

The allure of possibility wafted through the space, a subtle hum in the air that resonated with the unspoken possibilities of a shared coffee, a continuation of a story that had begun in the rhythms of a summer dance.

She tilted her head, the smile on her lips carrying a hint of mischief, "Well, Kento—kun, I suppose it would be a shame to let such an unexpected reunion end so quickly, wouldn't it?"

Nanami Kento felt a surge of relief and excitement, the uncharted territory of possibility stretching before them. It was as though this moment just felt right. Everything he felt was right. Everything he felt about life shifted and changed and merged and broke. Everything in this moment was beyond comprehension. Everything about tonight was a once and a lifetime miracle.

"I'd like that," he replied, a sincerity in his voice that mirrored the warmth that had been kindled within him. "Very much."

She hums back, happily. "Hm, me too."

Their conversation, a delightful blend of laughter and shared memories, intertwined seamlessly with the enchanting atmosphere of the night. The lamplights cast elongated shadows on the cobblestone streets, creating an intimate tableau as they meandered through the city's silent alleys.

It was a dance of words beneath the glow, a choreography of sentences and responses that mirrored the ebb and flow of the moonlit waves on a distant shore.

The moon, a silent sentinel in the celestial expanse, bestowed its tender glow upon them, as if lending an ethereal blessing to this rendezvous. Its silver light, filtered through the winter night's breath, painted their silhouettes against the backdrop of Copenhagen's timeless beauty.

Underneath the moonlit canvas, they strolled with a leisurely pace, navigating the labyrinth of streets with no particular destination in mind. Each step was a sentence in the unwritten story of their night—a story that seemed to unfold organically, propelled by the magnetic pull of shared laughter and the quiet understanding that words could convey.

As they wandered, the city's pulse seemed to quicken, echoing the cadence of their conversation. The facades of historic buildings, adorned with tales of centuries past, watched over them like ancient guardians privy to the secrets exchanged in the moonlit embrace of the night.

The chill in the air did nothing to cool the warmth that radiated between them. Their breath mingled with the winter mist, creating an ephemeral veil around their steps. It was a dance of tenderness, orchestrated by the moon's watchful gaze and accompanied by the distant symphony of the city—footsteps on cobblestones, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the murmur of waves caressing the nearby shore.

As they continued to amble through Copenhagen's nocturnal embrace, the moonlight etched a silent poem in the sky, an ode to unexpected reunions and the timeless beauty of shared moments beneath its watchful eye. The city, in its slumber, whispered its approval, its ancient heart beating in harmony with the melody of their conversation. And in that tranquil interlude, two souls found solace in the delicate dance of words and the moonlit romance of a winter night in Copenhagen.

The cafe and bar was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them.

Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

writer's notes: i hope this makes up for the overtly sad sad stuff i write on here. this is a new year chapter for the new years!!! happy new year everyone!!! thank you for your support throughout 2023!!! let's be together happily in 2024 too!!!

fact about nanami and his wife this chapter: nanami's parents visited and attended a jujutsu sorcerer christmas party. his parents showed gojo the video of young nanami dancing with his wife in copenhagen. needless to say, nanami is not pleased. nanami's wife often comes to her brother's rescue when the singer of their band makes excuses. she has a really good singing voice and it helped nanami during sleepless nights or after a nightmare. she's been recruited a couple of times to be a professional singer, but she prefers writing! nanami's wife can speak japanese because her favorite uncle married a japanese woman. she wanted to be able to speak to her, so she and her aunt learned japanese and danish together. i always imagine nanami's wife's voice be like narumi from wotakoi while i write her dialogue. she sounds soft spoken but energetically bright to me. she was played by arisa date. here's a sample of narumi's voice. nanami's top three favorite music genre is hard rock, alternative rock and jazz. but he would listen to all types of music too. nanami's wife likes a lot of sorts of music, but she grew up around jazz, pop and ballad. the day of their wedding, gojo's present to nanami's wife was a giving her a flash drive of second year nanami kento singing and jamming out to evanescence's bring me back to life. his wife calls it the best video ever. nanami has tried to take the flashdrive but his wife has made subsequent copies! copenhagen is nanami and his wife's favorite city to be in whenever they're in denmark. its everything to them to be there on july, when the jazz festival happens when they first met and near new year when they had they met again. the years after this, when they confessed in snow flower, on new year's eve, when he and her came back to the jazz bar and ate at the same place as their first date as a couple.

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moodcrab · 3 months

Text

Fixing Skyrim's Daedric Quests

Introduction

Unlike my Oblivion character - a mere mortal who stumbled upon a shrine while lost in the wilderness, becomes somewhat obsessed with gaining the level requirement and collecting an offering, then undertakes the quest feeling like a dark god is testing their worthiness to be their champion - The Last Dragonborn has Daedric Princes falling over themselves to make them their champion straight out the gate. Level one? Who cares! No offering? No problem! Not my Summoning Day? We haven't cared about that since Morrowind! Literally told me to go fuck myself? Take the prize anyway Champ you've earned it!

Basically, much like factions, Skyrim shoves nearly all of the Daedric Quests in the player's face as soon as possible because they're widely considered to be the best and most rewarding by fans of the previous games. But the older games had them, to varying degrees, hidden away or locked behind mechanics, and Bethesda didn't want newer, more casual fans to miss them. In doing so the Princes and their cults lose that air of mystery and danger they once had.

On the other hand, it was nice to be doing something else entirely then have a surprise Daedric Quests blind side me, and it's not like the old Oblivion way was perfect. Find shrine, give offering, get quest for EVERY Prince? And just one quest and I'm the champion, dedicated my soul to your afterlife and all that jazz?

This series is going to try to maximise the good parts of Skyrim Daedric Quests, while bringing back some of the classic elements that it left out, starting with...

Part I - Namria

Quest A) A Taste of Death.

If you visit the Treasury House in Markarth you might overhear an argument between Brother Verulus and Thongvor Silver-Blood. This location change means you are unlikely to just run into this quest immediately as in vanilla, but also gives you a high chance of encountering it during The Forsworn Conspiracy, in which case it has the double benefit of acting as a kind of red herring in that quest and linking this quest with Markarth's corruption and secret society vibes.

Brother Verulus wants the city guard to stop their lockdown of the Halls of the Dead and to actually go in and deal with the draugr head on (in my alternative "Fixed" Skyrim the increased draugr population is connected with Alduin's return, who is raising his Dragon Priests to serve him, even within cities). Why doesn't he go pester the Jarl or the Captain about this, asks Thongvor, dismissively. Oh come on, don't act coy, we all know who really controls the guard in Markarth, why not let them do their job, replies Verulus. Thongvor counters that that would be a desecration of the Nordic dead, that guards putting them down like a pest would be dishonourable. What's more, perhaps if the glorious Nordic dead of the city weren't being tended to by a poncy Imperial Priest of Arkay instead of a proper old fashioned Orkey Shaman, maybe none of this would have happened. Verulus starts to lose his temper at this, and in anger implies that he knows that the draugr problem that plagues the other cities isn't the real issue here, that most of the ancient dead here are Reachfolk not Nord, and begins to demand a true explanation for being locked out but stops himself, he has said too much and leaves.

The quest begins by talking to Verulus who will ask you to investigate what's really going on in The Halls of the Dead. How you get in is up to you. If you're a sneaky type or a smooth talker you'll get in that way. You can also commit a crime to lure the guard away maybe. You could go find Thongvor who can be convinced to give you an alternative - take care of Verulus, but more on that later.

However you get into the Halls, on entering you start finding evidence of cannibalism, butchered bodies, cooking stations and so on. As you delve deeper you hear Eola, a Reachman Namira Devotee, goading and teasing you; "Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear... Don't you see what I am about down here in the dark? Is that disgust? Revulsion?... Or curiosity? Why don't you come deeper, and scratch that itch?" You can question her about who she is, what is her purpose here, why is Thongvor protecting her etc. but it will come down to convincing her to leave, killing her, or accepting her invitation to eat human flesh.

Now, IF you sided with Thongvor, the plan is to lie to Verulus to get him to follow you into the Halls of the Dead, this time you'll be confronted directly by Eola and Thongvor together. They intend to kill and eat you both and blame your deaths on Draugr. You can fight your way out and try to save Verulus, or you can prove yourself by killing Verulus yourself and tasting him by way of a test.

If you partake in cannibalism you will get a monologue from Eola about Namira, waxing poetic about the oldest god, The Black Fly, being the Daedric Prince of decay and squalor and all things ugly and repulsive... But also her significance to the Reachmen. To them she is the Spirit Queen who is the true god of death, not Arkay, the primal darkness that gives and takes life. You will gain the power to feast on a corps once a night or when underground, and unlock the second quest.

Quest B - A Guest for Dinner

The second quest will be even less obvious to the player and will hopefully take most people completely by surprise the first time it happens. The quest will only begin after the following criteria are met: You have used the lesser power to consume 10 or more corpses. You own a fully furnished player home. You spend the night there with either your spouse or a follower. When you sleep, a slow, loud, ominous knocking at the door awakens you.

At your door is a stranger in rags and a hideous face asking to come in. You can refuse or invite them to stay. Once inside they will take a seat at your table and ask what is being served for dinner. At this point your follower/spouse will be freaking out a little. You can offer food, like regular food, which will disappoint him and he'll leave. You can offer your spouse or follower as the meal and you'll have to attack them, the screen will darken for an gruesome audible muckbang. Or you can tell the Stranger he is on the menu, which will please him greatly and he will warn you against choking on him, depending on the disposition of your specific follower or spouse they will either join in or abandon you forever.

The Stranger, if he survives the night, will give you the Ring of Namira as thanks. If you ate him Eola, who incidentally will now double as a replacement spouse/follower, will arrive and give you the Ring. The Ring is a powerful reflect damage/magic ring, a unique enchantment in Skyrim.

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stardust-swan · 4 months

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Coquette Christmas

🎀 to wear: pale pinks, baby blue, icy white, leg warmers, uggs with bows, sweaters with skirts, cable knit cardigans, cashmere scarves, earmuffs, mittens, pearl bobby pins, velvet scrunchies and bows, berets with pearls, sparkly earrings, pretty brooches on your winter coat, glossier birthday balm, becca pearl highlighter

🎀 bake heart shaped stained glass sugar cookies or gingerbread people with bows piped on <3

🎀 enjoy peppermint white hot chocolate with mini marshmallows while cuddled up under a blanket

🎀 read hans christian andersen fairytales

🎀 see a ballet like swan lake, the nutcracker, or gisele

🎀 visit the swans! in the northern hemisphere swans migraine during christmas so go to a canal or lake to watch then glide by

🎀 make your skincare routine different! skin tends to get drier in winter so use a richer moisturiser, do sheet masks (love lapcos sheet masks), use vaseline or a lip mask overnight (klavuu does a great one), put some glycerin or lotion on your feet and hands before putting on your socks and gloves, and remember to still wear spf! carry a good handcream and lip balm (fresh rose lip treatment is soo good) in case you feel dry while out. and obviously drink lots of water

🎀 ice-skate holding hands with someone special <3

🎀 light lots of candles! there are some great wintery scented one like gingerbread, frankincense, winter berry and mulled wine. I also like yankee's rainbow cookie in winter even though it's not strictly a winter scent. vanilla is always a good idea too

🎀 eat lots of marzipan, sugared rose petals, crystallised fruit, nougat, turkish delight, and caramelised nuts

🎀 practice self care with a warm bubble bath, a face mask, and a rich body lotion afterwards. put on silk pyjamas and fluffy socks that have been wrapped around a hot water bottle so they're already warm and cozy afterwards

🎀 to smell christmassy: layer scent by using a peppermint shower gel followed by a vanilla body lotion

🎀 decorate your space with figurines of swans, shepherdesses, angels, nutcrackers, and holiday barbies. and put bows on your xmas tree

🎀 watch: love actually, anastasia, little women, classic disney movies, white christmas, ice princess, harry potter and the sorcerer's stone, bridget jone's diary, barbie in the nutcracker, the chronicles of narnia, dead poets society, and any hallmark movie

🎀 write christmas cards in glitter pen and decorate with angel stickers and a spritz of vanilla perfume

🎀 to feel luxurious at night, spritz on some body spray, wear a flowing nightgown and do yourself in a clara style (half up with satin ribbon)

🎀 make snow angels!

🎀 make an emergency kit for those days when you come home miserable because of the cold and dark and have no energy, plans, and need some alone time. include things like a candle, a small box of good chocolates, some sheet masks, a perfume, your favourite tea, a book that comforts you, fluffy socks, a cozy blanket, paper and a pen to journal your thoughts, a photo album of your favourite people, old love letters, or anything else that you can easily keep at hand that will comfort you

🎀 listen to a pretty wintery playlist with genres like classical, jazz, and celtic/nordic traditional (mine is below <3)

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martinebirgitte · 6 months

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Nov. 14th

A well-needed cozy day at home.

Coffee, cats, cafe jazz and Harry Potter. What could be better to wind down with? Today I turned in my 1000words long assignment on nordic language and sociolinguistics. Then I have another assignment ’til Sunday in Norse language and exam in linguistics on Nov. 29th.

I am so excited for December to come, when I can wind down a little with my last two finals and be overjoyed with winter, jule and cozy-reads!

How are you all surviving November??

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fzzr · 1 year

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There Can Never be Another Anime Like Legend of the Galactic Heroes

Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu (Legend of the Galactic Heroes, henceforth "LOGH") is a 1988-1997 OVA series adapting the novel series of the same name. At 110 episodes, it's the longest anime I have ever watched outside the interminable shonen like Dragon Ball. Rather than a source of Saturday morning spectacle or vehicle to sell you the next round of merch, LOGH is literature. In this regard, it is Perfect In Every Way That Matters.

Plot

LOGH tells the story of the end of the 150 year long war between the Galactic Empire and Free Planets Alliance. The Empire is a germanic/nordic flavored monarchy that only doesn't call itself the Fourth Reich because everyone has forgotten about its predecessors. The Alliance was founded on freedom and equality and all that jazz but practically speaking it dedicates all excess production to the military, with social welfare a distant afterthought.

There are far, far too many characters to go over here, but the key ones are the foremost military minds of each side. The Empire's strategic military genius is Reinhard von Lohengramm. By his side is Siegfried Kircheis, his childhood friend and moral compass. Together they are motivated with a passion like wildfire to end the unjust system of the Empire and bring it and the Alliance both under Reinhard's command. The Alliance's answer to Reinhard is the tactical magician Yang Wen Li. He is only in the military at all because that's the only way to pay for an education - his sole ambition is to reach a rank that offers a good enough pension to live on, then retire and fulfill his dream of being a historian. He is accompanied by Julian Mintz, his ward and our window into every corner of the military system.

I say "each side," but LOGH features far more than a binary conflict. Each polity is internally fractured, with multiple forces rising and falling over the course of the story. To name a few: the aristocratic Goldenbaum dynasty, the economic powerhouse Phezzan, the Earth Church, and the Alliance civilian government all spend time as antagonists for one or both of our protagonists.

Against this vast backdrop, we watch how countless choices made by many individuals weave together into a story about war, politics, and the things people do to other people in those pursuits. At times you may think you know where things are headed, but from battle tactics to strategic and political twists and turns you will never find the path itself predictable.

Politics

It is impossible (and undesirable) to talk about LOGH without talking about its politics. LOGH is not afraid of putting political speeches in its characters' mouths, and it certainly has some opinions to share.

At the beginning of the story both the Alliance and the Empire are deeply corrupt in their own ways. The Alliance is a democracy faced with increasing political violence and authoritarian character. The Empire is ruled by a monarchy and aristocracy with no connection to or empathy for its subjects, where the only real way to move up as a commoner is through the military. Both sides' great military leaders are aware of the need for reform. While Reinhard seeks to bring it about with his own hands, Yang considers using drastic means to be so antithetical to those goals that it's worse than the status quo.

Pacifism and nonviolent resistance are presented as highly honorable but ultimately futile in the face of force used by those with no empathy for its victims. It doesn't matter how many elections you win if the KKK with a different color scheme can keep your politicians in hospitals or graves while police are ineffectual at best. No number of strongly worded complaints will keep soldiers from burning your house down if you resist their occupation. Even economic warfare, no matter how intricate and subtle, may ultimately fail when faced with the barrel of a gun.

This is a war story, and there are many honorable masters of the profession of arms among its protagonists. The central philosophical argument among them is when and how it is moral to use force. At the beginning, the rulers of both sides see military force as a tool to be used without consideration, dispassionately throwing away millions of lives for marginal gains or even pure political expediency. LOGH doesn't shy away from depicting war crimes, from torturing prisoners of war to willfully starving or slaughtering civilians. It also never fails to show the consequences of such actions, on both the moral character of those who carry them out and on their long term strategic objectives.

There are many explorations of democratic and autocratic forms of government. It has particular disdain for religion as a political force, either as a theocracy or just as a tool for cynical politicians. The Empire was founded on I-can't-believe-it's-not-fascism-because-it-literally-is-complete-with-eugenics. The Alliance is nominally based on the ideals of a government for and by all people. LOGH looks into the forms democracy can take, and how a democracy can be no better than an autocracy when taking lived results into account. Autocracies in turn are assessed not blindly for being of undemocratic nature but also for the results of their rule, good or ill.

The ultimate political message of LOGH is that a government which is disconnected from its people has no legitimacy, no matter what form it takes, and is invariably doomed to failure and collapse. It is the responsibility of the people to make that a reality - to take hold of their own sovereignty, and keep it.

Conclusion

Score: Legend of the Galactic Heroes is 10/10. It is one of the greatest stories ever told in the medium, and the questions it asks are as important as they are unsubtle.

Recommendation: Just about everyone should watch LOGH, time allowing. It is less than half the length of the current entirety of the MCU, and still has more minutes worth watching (haha gottem). Watch it two episodes a week over the course of a year and change if you want - but I'll bet money once you get started you won't want to wait that long. The only caveats are it does not shy away from blood and guts (with a number of on-screen suicides) and it has some language that's not acceptable today, so steer clear if those are dealbreakers for you.

Comparisons

It's hard to think of any worthy anime comparison for LOGH (and I'm saving a few for later) so let's look at something else - Star Wars. The first novel was written in the wake of The Empire Strikes Back, and most of the series was published after Return of the Jedi. It has giant spherical space stations with superweapons on them, fleet battles among capital ships and fighters, speeder bikes, the works. Even the energy weapon sound effects even seem to be based on if not directly sampling those of Star Wars. Hell, the opposing sides are literally called the Empire and the Alliance.

To narrow down the comparison, let's look at their respective giant spherical space stations - Iserlohn Fortress and the Death Star. Iserlohn seems almost like a direct answer to the Death Star in the details of its design. First of all, it's not a planet cracker, but rather a defensive emplacement on a critical choke point. It's designed to withstand a siege indefinitely. As such it's properly a habitat, with a civilian population in the families of the soldiers stationed there and due attention given to that. It has a radius less than half that of the DS1, but different scifi handwaving means its volume is dedicated to support rather than weapons systems. In lieu of solid armor or an energy shield that might be deactivated, its surface is self-healing "liquid metal" that obscures any potential weak point. Given the station's immobile nature, the Thor Hammer superweapon components float on the surface and are aimed by physically moving around. Secondary weapons likewise can be surfaced and moved where ever they are needed to concentrate fire. Like the Death Star, it can dock an entire fleet, but it has no conveniently visible docking bays to be targeted to deal with that issue. Both the Death Star and Iserlohn Fortress are well-designed for the story their creators wanted to tell, it's just that the stories in question required the Death Star to be super cool looking and Iserlohn to be full of details to be used in multiple tactical and strategic scenarios.

So how do they compare in total? Star Wars has better spectacle and of necessity more aggressive pacing, but when it comes to telling a story they're not in the same galaxy (pun absolutely intended). A New Hope is 121 minutes long. LOGH takes that much time (almost exactly!) to get set up for its own infiltration of a giant spherical space station, which starts toward the end of episode 6. Don't get me wrong, A New Hope is a masterpiece in its own right and one of the most groundbreaking films ever made (don't @ me). LOGH is just better all around at nearly everything but spectacle, and it's no slouch in that department either.

Final Thoughts

I got this far without talking about the music because for once it truly doesn't matter. The openings and endings are slow and thoughtful, feel free to skip them if they're boring to you. The background music would feel at home in a symphony hall (and some is actually just pre-existing classical music). No notes here, it's a good match for what the series is and lands where it needs to land.

#legend of the galactic heroes #anime #ginga eiyuu densetsu #anime recommendation #original post

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