Katawa Shoujo Forums

Feurox wrote: ↑Tue Dec 24, 2019 11:15 am A fantastic story Mirage! Wonderfully done, though that prompt seems a bit too perfect for you

To be honest, it wasn't quite that easy. I have only very cursory knowledge of Astronomy, so I had a bit of reading up to do before I could even start writing.
Also writing past tense is a bitch...

Took a few extra days to get out with how busy the holidays were this year, but I managed to finish my contribution to this little shindig I look forward to every year!

I drew the one and only ProfAllister as my victim.

Victim: ProfAllister
Prompt: The Winter Solstice is the Feast of Sol Invictus, "the unconquered sun". No longer retreating, the sun goes on the offensive, the days getting progressively longer from this point on.
Write a story about one of Yamaku's unconquered suns

This idea was kicking around in my head for a while and I replayed Emi's route to get a feel for it. Prof, I hope you (and others) enjoy it!

Next Step

Emi never did like wearing sweatshirts, especially when running on the track. The cooler weather made it a necessity however, along with the heavy cotton shorts she was wearing. It was a small price to pay to be able to keep up her routine, and one she was happy to.

Her breath came to her in ragged puffs, her lungs sucking in air and expelling it into small clouds that trailed behind her in the cold evening air. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, taking with it the feeble temperature that passed for warmth during the shortened days. A few months ago and there’d still be plenty of daylight left, but with the year coming to a close, she found herself on the track earlier in the evenings than she usually ran.

The blades made a steady cadence on the track, harmonizing with her breathing as she rounded the last corner and put on another burst of speed. She reached the line and soared across it, feeling good about the amount of time it took to run the last mile of the day - as good as she could feel without a stopwatch, anyway.

One more lap to cool down should do it, she thought to herself.

She was the only one out on the track this time of day, as it was on most days. With exams over and most of the other students either going home or choosing to spend their winter break relaxing, she had the entire thing to herself. As she finished her final lap, a voice called out to her, startling her.

“You’re gonna catch a cold if you keep up like this, you know.”

Emi turned to see Nurse leaning against the fence that separated the track from the bleachers, holding a steaming cup and smiling at her as he watched. She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation and walked up to him, hoping that she wasn’t in for another scolding.

“I was just finishing up. Besides, these shorts you gave me do a good enough job of keeping me warm!”

Nurse laughed. “Glad to hear it, even though all I did was cut the legs off a pair of sweatpants and have Yuuko hem the edges.”

Emi walked through a gap in the fence and sat down on the front row of benches, looking quizzically at the older man. “What are you doing out here? You normally go home by now.”

Nurse smiled back at her. “Well, I had to stay a bit late to finish up. I figured since I was here, I'd swing by to check up on you. How are you doing?”

“Never better!” she replied, reaching down to slide the hem of her shorts up, revealing the line where her flesh ended and the plastic began. “Wanna see?” With practiced ease, she swung both of her legs up onto the bench next to him as he sat down next to her.

“We can do this inside, if it’s warmer.”

Emi shook her head. “No, this is fine. It’s not that cold yet.”

Nurse nodded and placed a hand on her thigh, using the other one to twist her right blade until it gently slipped off. Emi reached down and took off the short stocking that covered her stump, leaving it exposed. They had done this countless times before, and the routine was no different; it only took about thirty seconds to check the flesh for any signs of irritation or damage, and another minute to inspect the other leg in a similar fashion.

“Everything looks good, but it looks like your blades might need to get the rubber changed out pretty soon.”

“Ahhh, yeah,” Emi agreed, rubbing the back of her head and looking sheepish. “I was kind of putting that off until the break started...”

“It might have been better to do it while the exams were going on. It only takes a week for the company to retrofit these things,” Nurse mentioned, pursing his lips as Emi put her stockings back on. The girl looked at him in abject horror at this suggestion.

“Are you kidding? Running in the morning was the only thing keeping me sane through the last two weeks!”

Nurse laughed again. “I can take them tonight and mail them off tomorrow morning. They’d be back here by the time classes start again.”

Emi paused for a second. “Um, can you pick them up when you come for Christmas? You’re still coming over, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Will your boyfriend be joining us?”

She pouted. “No. Hisao’s parents really wanted him back to visit, but he promised me he’s going to be back here in time for New Years!”

“That’s good news, at least. So do you two have anything planned?”

“Yep! We’re going on a date in the city. There’s a concert I want to see and he owes me.” Emi twisted her second blade back into place and stood up briefly to test the fit. “Besides, we can get front row seats without paying for them!”

“So what does Hisao owe you for this time?” Nurse asked, smiling.

Emi put her hands on her hips and proudly jutted her chest out. “Just being my awesome self, of course! And getting him into shape. He said he’s healthier now than he ever was before he came to Yamaku.”

“Well I don’t know that for sure, but I know he’s never been better for the last few months, anyway. You haven’t done too bad yourself.”

“Are you implying that I wasn’t always this amazing?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Nurse threw his hands up in defense. “Not at all! But if I may say so, he’s been really good for you. And not just in helping you keep up a running schedule either.”

“He really has been. He makes me happy,” Emi confessed, sitting down next to the older man on the bench. “Took a lot to make him that way, you know.”

“Eh, between the two of us, I think he did just fine, don’t you?” he asked, placing an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah. But you know, he’s not the only one I have to whip into shape,” Emi said, her voice starting to turn ominous. She leaned back a bit so she could turn her body to face Nurse, and crossed her arms. “You and I need to have a serious talk, mister.”

Nurse smiled. “Oh? And what did I do this time?” he asked, picking up his coffee and bringing it to his lips.

“When are you going to make an honest woman out of my mom?”

Nurse did a spit take, coughing as the sip he was taking exploded out of his mouth. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure, and even then it wasn’t very coherent.

“When am I what?”

Emi smiled slightly at his reaction, but didn’t let up. “You’ve been dating off and on for years now. She loves you, you know she does. So. When are you going to make it official? She’s not going to wait forever for you, you know.”

Nurse finally managed to set his coffee down, wiping the liquid off the front of his jacket. “Aren’t you direct this evening.”

“I’m serious. I want to know why you haven’t."

Nurse sighed and looked out over the track, seeing the long shadows the goalposts on the inner field cast as the lights above the bleachers flickered to life automatically, bathing the track and field into a harsh artificial glow. This was a conversation he knew was going to happen eventually, but now that it was here, he wasn’t quite sure how to begin.

“Your mother and I tried to get close before, but...the timing didn’t work out. We thought we might want to try it again someday, but...”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with what Nomiya did at the exhibit opening, does it?”

Nurse was taken aback. “You knew about that?”

“Mom told me about it. What exactly happened?”

Nurse paused again, reliving the memory of visiting the 22nd Corner that night. The three of them - himself, Emi, and Meiko - had gone to show support for Rin, who had a section dedicated to the art that she had made. “He didn’t say anything at the time, but he joked the next day in the staff lounge about how nice it must be to be dating an older woman.”

“Jerk. I don’t see how Rin can put up with him,” Emi said, clenching her fists in empathy.

“He has a very...distinct...personality.”

“Well, who cares if you’re closer to my age than my mom’s?” Emi bristled, her voice rising in indignation. “That’s only to be expected, right? I’ll be old enough to drink in three months, you know.”

“Heaven forbid,” Nurse said, shooting her a glare that made her deflate.

“Well, just because I can doesn’t mean I will. I don’t really like the taste too much anyway.”

“And just how would you know what alcohol tastes like, hmm?”

Emi shook her head emphatically. “Nope. I’m not letting you blackmail me.”

“I might just have to tell your mother anyway.”

“You’re an asshole, and blackmail only works if you’re covering up a good reason, which that isn’t.” Emi crossed her arms again. “So, what else ya got?”

Nurse leaned back, clearly uncomfortable, something that Emi only rarely managed to make him. “Did your mother put you up to this?”

She winked. “You don’t think you’re the only one I conspire with, do you?” She dropped the playful demeanor suddenly, looking at him with concern. “But seriously. I really need to know.”

“It...wasn’t so much the age thing, but something else that Nomiya made me think about. You know, it might be seen as inappropriate for one of the Yamaku staff to date the parent of one of their students.”

Emi pondered this for a moment, turning it over in her head. “If you’re gonna use that as an excuse, you better follow through on it.”

“What’s this now?”

“You were part of our lives years before I came to Yamaku, and we both know that hasn’t stopped you from trying in the past. And I’m not going to be a student here anymore in a few months, so that’s reason number two that doesn’t work. Try again.”

Nurse rubbed the back of his neck, his feeble attempts to stall or ward off the true issue of the conversation spent. “Well, if I’m honest, it’s, um...it’s you.”

“Me?” Emi asked in surprise.

“Not just you, but your mother,” he stammered out. “No, that’s not right either. It’s, well...your father.”

Emi was even more confused at this statement. “What do you mean, my father?”

Despite the chilly night air, Nurse felt uncomfortably hot. “I care deeply about both of you. You know that...but there’s a part of me that feels like I would be...overreaching?”

Emi’s brows furrowed as she heard this, before her eyes went wide with understanding. “Seriously? That’s what’s been holding you back? The idea that you wouldn’t be able to replace my dad?”

Nurse hung his head and rubbed at his temples. “Sounds stupid when you say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

Fully engulfed in a head of steam, Emi put her hands on her hips again and didn't relent. “You’re damned right! You’re one of the smartest people I know and that has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say in the eight years I’ve known you. If I had a week I wouldn’t be able to tell you all the ways you’re wrong.”

“I really think you’re overstating what I-”

Nurse was cut off by Emi giving him a fierce hug, crushing the wind out of him with its intensity. “Shut up,” she mumbled into his chest. “You’ve been here for me and Mom. More than anyone else. You’re family.”

“Emi-”

“I said shut up. I love my dad. I miss him. I’m always going to,” Emi said, pulling back a bit to look up at him. “But you know what? He would have wanted more than anything to see the two of us happy again. You make us both happy, and we wouldn’t be who we are today if we didn’t meet you.” Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes, and her voice became small. “I already lost one dad. I don’t want to lose another one.”

Nurse’s heart started pounding hard when he heard that, hammering away at his doubts. He returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Emi’s frame. “Do you really mean that?”

He felt her nod against his chest. “I mean, after all this time...don’t you see me as a daughter? At least a little bit?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

Emi’s embrace only got tighter at his answer, and the two of them sat undisturbed for several minutes.

“There,” she said, pulling away to look up at him. “So it’s settled.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’m not telling you to propose to her, but...you guys need to give it a serious shot, okay? Mom loves you, and I...I really want it to work out.”

Nurse laughed, a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with my nagging?”

Emi beamed up at him. “The last eight years has been good practice.”

Another bout of cleansing laughter shook Nurse, and Emi joined in, both of them shedding the anxiety and fear that the conversation had built up.

“Well, I guess your mom and I are going to have to have a talk when I come over in a few days, won’t we?”

“You better.”

Nurse hugged her again, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, letting go of all the apprehension that had built up over the last few years.

“Thanks for being so stubborn.”

Emi giggled. “You saw how I was able to turn Hisao onto running. You really didn’t think I’d ever use that on you, did you?”

“No, but I’m glad you did. Thank you, Emi. I can’t think of a better Christmas gift from you.”

~Fin

Re: Euro

A nice story about human beings trying to make each other happy and working out their hangups.

I never understood this type of story or particularly enjoyed them. But it's a good piece and a pleasant one.

I "D'awwww!"'d out loud at “I already lost one dad. I don’t want to lose another one.” So sweet and mushy, hits all the right sweet spots for a Christmas story. Well done!

Awwe!! Nurse is bestdad!

Procrastinated Really hard so my post got pushed a few days late.

I tried my best and I hope you all enjoy this, especially you Brythain.
Victim: brythain
Prompt: dramatic performance in winter, with the theme of shadow-play

AN UNSEEN PLAY

The story of Ramayana.

A five thousand years old epic originates from India that tells the story of the brave hero Rama and his journey to save his soon to be wife Sita. It is a story that has been told through many forms and has countless iterations over millennia. It is truly a story that defines not just India, but many other cultures who adopted the Hindu faith, some experts even suggest that this story and the Mahabarata may very well be the reason why the Hindu faith is still so strong in the region.

This iteration is a story told through the medium of shadow puppetry, known as Wayang, that is popular in the Java region of Indonesia. It tells its story through the puppets as well as the beautiful and traditional gamelan instruments that are accompanied by a team of traditional singers known as the sinden.

You are welcome to enjoy this beautiful traditional performance at this year’s Asian Culture Festival. The performance will be held on Saturday night at 19:00 PM at the-

I raise my finger from the brochure to stop reading the braille text that details the location and time of the performance. Since I’m already inside the theater where it’s going to take place, reading further would simply be a wasted effort.

As I’m waiting for the performance to start, I can hear the voices of the crowd around me gets louder and more numerous, a clear sign that the show is about to begin.

As I begin to relax in my seat, a warm and smooth object which, I’m guessing is a plastic cup suddenly touches my cheek, surprising me a little. I flinch, moving my face ever so slightly away from it.

“Whoops, sorry, was it still too hot?” The familiar voice of Hisao speaks up.

I simply smile in response to his apology, “No, I was just surprised since I didn’t hear your footsteps since it is getting rather crowded here. What took you so long by the way?”

“There was a long line at the buffet table, including the drinks. Not to mention that the staff forgot to actually heat up the damn thing, so I have to wait around for that,” His tone is devoid of any signs of frustration, and he even lets out a small laugh after explaining it to me.

“I would think that going through such an ordeal would cause you some frustrations Hisao, but you seem as chipper as you were this morning."

“Well... ” his words trail off momentarily as he takes a seat next to me, “It’s hard not to when it’s our first anniversary you know? I don’t want to sour the mood just because of a long queue.”

As if responding to his words, I run a finger across the outside of the ring, feeling the slight dimples on the ring. When I first noticed it, I thought it was a flaw in the ring but Hisao told me to feel it again and that's when I recognized the inverted Braille that had been carved into the cold metal. The dimples are still relatively new and legible, but I suppose that someday, they be won’t be.

But, I won't forget their heart-felt message: L&H 2018

I remember when were buying this, Hisao wanted to get us a fancier wedding ring that’s made out of gold or silver at first. But I convinced him, and also my parents, to get something simpler instead. Tungsten, to be more specific.

When my parents asked me why I wanted a simple ring, the main reasoning I gave them was purely economic. Gold wedding rings cost almost ten times as much as a tungsten one, and that money can be better allocated elsewhere. At least, that was my excuse for it.

It wasn’t just an excuse, but it wasn’t the full truth either. We had the money to spare, and my parents are more than willing to chip in even if we don’t. But I mainly wanted to keep them away from the decision making for our wedding, at least, for that part of it. I wanted it to be about us, about me and Hisao and no one else.

Although they did still pay for a large amount of the reception.

“How thoughtful of you. Can I have my tea, please?” I ask while outstretching a hand.

“Oh right, it’s still kind of hot, so be careful,” he warns me as he moves the plastic cup so that it touches my open hand.

I grab the tea and notices that it really isn’t that hot. The entire theater building is quite cold, so maybe it just cooled down after being in his hand for so long?

Well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose, so long as the tea is good. I take a sip to test the flavor and find myself very disappointed in the taste. It’s basically just a very mediocre tea with some sugar in it.

“This is pretty shit tea,” I curse quietly, but making sure it’s just loud enough so that Hisao can hear.

He lets out an exaggerated gasp and responds in an equally fake way, “Honey, mind your language!”

Considering that I would often warn him about proper language use to him, It’s quite obvious that he’s making fun of me with that little sarcastic remark of his. I simply smile in response to his little joke, appreciating our brief moment of playful banter.

“Oh, Hisao dear, what time is-” my question is suddenly cut short by the sound of music.

The music starts out slow and quiet, with only a few instruments starting the piece. As it reverberates through my ear, I begin to try and understand what I’m hearing and what type of instrument could make this sound, which is proving rather difficult.

It’s hard to describe since it sounds so unfamiliar with any type of music I’ve listened to. The closest thing that I can think of that sounds somewhat familiar would be those improvisational metal instruments that’s made out of steel drums, except this is a much more refined version of that.

“Hisao, is the instrument made out of metal?” I ask.

“Well, I can’t actually see the instrument since it’s covered by a semi-transparent curtain. So I can only see the shadow of the puppets,” he explains.

“That’s unfortunate.”

“But, I can see the shadow of the puppets and they look really elaborate.”

“How so?”

“Well, normally when you see a shadow of an object, it just looks like one big lump, as in... just try just imagining an object or a shape in your head and you’re probably not far off.”

As per his suggestion, I try imagining a human-shaped doll in my head. I can imagine the overall shape and perhaps even the more intricate things like its facial features and the shape and texture of the hair, but nothing beyond that.

“I’m guessing that you want me to imagine the silhouette of a person, right? If that’s the case then I think you should know the imagery that’s popping into my head perfectly well by this point.”

“Well not perfectly, but I can figure it out more or less,” as he says so, his seat makes a slight creaking sound, indicating that he’s standing up to get a better view, “the projection of the puppets on the screen is actually not just black, in fact, you can see the patterns of their clothes and even the details on the face.”

“Is that so? It sounds very pretty to look at. I guess it’s too bad that I can’t see them,” I joke with a fake disgruntled tone.

Well, I suppose it’s not entirely a joke. As comfortable as I am with my blindness, not being able to see things that have been described to me as beautiful still somewhat bothers me to a certain extent. I’ve learned to mainly ignore this feeling by enjoying other things about the world like sound and small, but it still gets to me from time to time. But, I should be grateful for what I have I suppose, not many have the opportunities I have in life.

Hisao lets out a small laugh as I hear him sitting back down in his seat, “Well I’ll give you play by play for the entire thing, so don’t worry about that.”

“How sweet of you, dear.”

“It’s my pleasure, honey,”

I begin to relax in my seat while enjoying the music. I feel around the right armrest of my seat to find Hisao’s hand and holds it in mine when I find it.

As the music comes to a stop, a man speaks up, announcing that the play is about to begin.

_______________________________________________________________

And thus the play ended. I get up from my seat and hold Hisao’s arm as we walk out of the theater together.

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

I let out a quiet hum, recalling the play and the story that takes place.

The show started with the puppetmaster speaking in a theatrical manner. He told us the premise of the story, about the warrior prince named Rama who won a tournament to wed the princess named Sinta.
The two got married shortly after, but it is then revealed that Sinta is actually a descendant of a goddess, and thus many forces want to take her for themselves.

The main meat of the story, from what I can gather anyway, is mainly about Rama rescuing Sinta from the clutches of a man named Rahwana and his eventual success in rescuing her, ending it off in a nice “happily ever after” ending.

To be perfectly honest, it’s a pretty... shallow story. I understand it’s historical significance, but it really is just a classic hero rescuing the damsel in distress story. Another thing is that the story’s pacing feels way too fast, which is understandable considering that, if I remember correctly, the Ramayana itself is a book-sized epic and this show condensed it all in just an hour.

But despite all that, I actually really enjoyed it. The story itself is nothing amazing, but the live music performance was simply phenomenal and the women who sang the songs were a joy to listen to.
And from what I can tell, Hisao enjoyed the show greatly as well.

He would try his best to describe every scene to me to the best of his abilities. Things like, what each characters look like and what they’re wearing, the different props that the puppetmaster would pull out and even how the puppets move, and he would also excitedly describe the action scenes whenever there was one. Although... he mainly described the fights as being two puppets smashing into one another, which sounds rather boring, to be perfectly honest.

I wasn’t able to enjoy the spectacle of course, but I did greatly enjoy listening to him describe it for me. It’s an act I greatly appreciate out of him.

Even though I know it’s difficult for him to describe the play for me and even though he knows that he can’t communicate perfectly the things that he sees to me, he still does it anyway. It seems small, and perhaps even he thinks that it’s a small and insignificant thing, but I wholly disagree.

I remember the times when he stumbled constantly, always trying to be sensitive about my blindness around me.

I remember the days where he would be utterly confused about how to describe things to me in a way that I would understand.

Now those days are in the past. Precious memories from our teenage years to remind us about how much we’ve grown accustomed to one another.

“It was wonderful, but the story was a bit bland in my opinion,” I answer with a little smirk.

“Is that so? I think it was a nice story, but maybe it was just because I enjoying the puppetry so much.”

“I’m sure it was wonderful to see.”

“It really was. I wish you could’ve seen it, I think it’s something you’ll really love,” his words comes out soft and quiet, tinged with a hint of sadness.

Even as the years go by, some things will remain the same, I suppose. Even though I told him many times that it doesn’t bother me, he will always be like this, constantly worrying and wanting me to see the sights that the world has to offer. Not out of pity, but because he cares.

I stop in my tracks and let go of my grip on his arm. I turn towards him and move my right hand to his cheek, feeling his face and enjoying his warmth. As I hold him, I move my face closer to him and give him a small kiss.

“That’s not something you should be concerned about dear, we don’t want to sour the mood during our anniversary right?” I give him a smile as I comfort him.

He lets out a giggle before speaking again, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I grab his arm before we begin walking towards the exit of the building once again.

A sudden change in temperature informs me that we are now outside. I stop walking to breathe the cold night air, and my mind begins to wonder about our lives together.

I’m no princess and Hisao is no prince, just two normal couple celebrating their first anniversary together. Our relationship isn’t perfect, and it could’ve ended so much earlier in our life. But it didn’t, and that’s something I will always be grateful for.

It doesn’t have to be an exciting journey, full of thrills and adventure. Life isn’t some fairytale or some epic like that show we just watched after all.

Perhaps our lives will forever be normal and mundane. And that’s fine. That’s perfectly fine.

I tighten my grip around my husband’s arm and ask him, “Shall we head home?”

Tetrax333 wrote: ↑Sat Dec 28, 2019 12:24 pm I tried my best and I hope you all enjoy this, especially you Brythain.

Hey, Tetrax... the Mahabharata and Ramayana were two of the earliest epics my father fed me when I was a kid. This has unexpected resonance, and I enjoyed it very much because of that. What a strange and wonderful juxtaposition—my favourite L/H combination and a blast from my past! Also, tungsten where I'd chosen ruthenium in AtD. Thanks very much!

This one is for PKMNthiefChris, with warm wishes for many great Christmases to come!

Winterhome

Thanks to Prof_Allister for setting up our annual event, and Mirage_GSM for hosting this! Merry Christmas, everyone!

All these entries were positively fantastic, and it really warms my stony heart to see so many familiar faces still writing here, even after five years and counting. It almost feels like a time bubble, as though I never left.

Merry christmas and happy holidays, all you glorious bastards.

Nice story.
One thing that I found strange was that the theatre troupe went to the trouble of printing flyers in braille but not providing an option for audio commentary. I'd hate to be the one sitting next to those two

Mirage_GSM wrote: ↑Mon Jan 06, 2020 1:50 pm Nice story.
One thing that I found strange was that the theatre troupe went to the trouble of printing flyers in braille but not providing an option for audio commentary. I'd hate to be the one sitting next to those two

Yeah... I kinda had to trim up a lot of the details about the play itself since it got really long. But let's just say that I actually sat through a two-hour play of the wayang play blindfolded and actually understood the stuff that happened, but I just can't exactly imagine the scenery and the action involved, so that's where I focused on. Thank you for the reply man.

Victim: KSFFWriter
Prompt: Misha learns something about herself
Note: I'm sorry. I did the best I could.

Hothouse

Glass shatters and slices my feet. I feel blood trickle out from shards in my toes, and I instinctively step back. A cut bites into into my heel and I fall over backwards. I flail upwards and spin my head around. I am in my kitchen. I am alone. I look down at myself. A jagged sliver of glass larger than my palm has cut into my foot, cutting it right open. I hold my breath, reach down, and pull it out. I see and feel the blood run.

I fling the glass away and squeeze down. A pulseless run of blood wets my fingers. It is not so bad, it is not so bad, it is not so bad. I sit stock still, not daring to stop to bandage it, just holding it in place. Am I doing the right thing? I can’t have lost that much blood, have I?

What was I doing? How did this happens? Did I drop my cup and step on it? That doesn’t seem possible. Shouldn’t have driven the glass into my feet like that. I look up at my ceiling. No way that anything could have fallen from there. It’s blank wood paneling, with nothing that could possibly be hQidden on its flat surface. So I must have dropped it. I must have dropped it.

Did I? I don’t remember picking up a cup. The cupboard is open, but I don’t remember taking anything out. Who threw it at me? I shiver and look around, but I know that all the exits are locked. I’ve checked them myself, secured the deadbolt, duct-taped everything extra shut just in case. Dragged the furniture in front of the doors, risking that the sound might alert him.

If he’s waiting. I don’t think he can be. A vision of Saki’s father suddenly looms from around the corner and his black eyes bear down at me. He’s not real, this one isn’t real, I’m not scared. He disappears. He will reappear. It’s alright, I’m used to this, I just haven’t slept in a while, I know it isn’t real, I know he isn’t real. I’m used to this. I know I can get through this. The blood is trickling through my fingers more slowly, more slowly, more slowly. I try to close my eyes. My own breathing scares me into opening them again.

If you’re listening, and I think you can hear me, I’ll think to you what happened. I’ve always been a loud thinker, though I never knew it. You don’t know these things until someone tells you. I saw Saki’s father for the first time before last summer when he was prowling around school, searching for the teachers. Saki hobbled behind When I ran into him and asked him to please check himself into the office, he grabbed onto the front of my shirt and told me to shut up with how loud my thinking was.

I saw him again at night last week, him prowling with hunter’s energy, searching and searching for a what I didn’t know. Black-grey reaper. Stupid me, pink-haired idiot me, I ran up to him and got his attention. I asked him to check in with the school office. Pretty please. He stared down at me. His lips didn’t move. I just kept trying to smile, you know, just trying to avoid letting my friends down. It’s my job to tell people things, and I guess it was his job too. I laughed my little wahaha and he leaned in and said that he’d be back later. His eyes burned into mine and I couldn’t blink.

So it was alright, alright, when he backed off. He waited for me to leave first. I didn’t want to turn my back on him because it felt like he’d run after me and grab me if I did. I blabbled, just regular nonsense small-chat blabbling, talking ada and dada as I backed off and off. Then I threw myself into the school building, slammed the school shut, and ran for it to get deeper inside.

I’ve always been a loud thinker. He could hear me the entire time, hear where I ran, hear that I’d gone back to my dorm. I don’t know if he can hear me right now. I know that he can hear you. He dragged me off when I was sleeping. I woke up in his car. I was in the back. Rumbling around me. Light from the narrowest crack in front of me. Hands tied, mouth gagged. I could hear him think.

He came out after I’d had the longest ride. He opened the trunk and I shook my head. He didn’t hit me. He pulled down my pants and I braced for the worst but he only cut me. Two shallow cross-cuts, one on each thigh. Hot slice, hurt, bled, blood running down. But fine. Maybe fine. He dropped his bloody razor blade, threw me up onto his back and carried me away. Almost all of me away. I didn’t realized until later that he’d already cut off the middle finger on my left hand. It didn’t hurt. It still doesn’t. I barely feel the gap, don’t notice much of anything. Only when I look down at it do I see.

Hung up on his back I was. He thought to me what he was doing. I understood. I understood. I just needed to learn, listen, and follow. That was all. Simple lessons so I could do simple jobs. Don’t ask questions I don’t want to have answered, don’t learn things I don’t need to know, don’t question any of it. Alright. Alright alright. He dumped me inside a small square room and sung one high, clear note. He

Then he spoke again. We will begin the New World Symphony, by Dvorak, he intoned. Repeat what I said, Misha. He nodded sharply at me. So I tried to copy him. We will begin the New World Symphony, by Dorvak, I said. He grabbed me. He didn’t hit me. He gripped my left hand firmly and used his other hand to bring out a knife from a pocket. He blew on it, and it turned hot, glowing hot. I noticed that I was missing my middle finger right when he sliced through the rest and turned them into stubs.

He explained that I’d said my words wrong, and he made me say it right. I got it, I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t. It’s almost funny, haha, get Misha to pronounce the funny words she could never pronounce. Misha is dumb. Misha can’t say anything. Misha is alive. Misha was alive.

He asked me to cut my wrist and draw a few things on the floor in blood. He handed me another razor blade. I looked at him, and then I looked at his knife. I said okay, and then I drew a few things for him. It didn’t take too much blood. It was fine. I could do that part. He left the room. I didn’t dare stop drawing. He came back in with Saki in his arms and put her down gently. He asked me to get up and fetch her cane from a corner, and I saw her cane, and then I went and got it.

Said he didn’t ask for a disabled daughter. He took the cane, took his knife, and spat fire on them both. Ash rose. But he loved his daughter. He loved Saki and would see her walk fearlessly again. A transference. Fear for fear, ability for ability. He clicked his tongue. I understood. I picked up the bloody razor blade.

Open up your wrist.

He held the glass cup underneath. I stared at him. I pricked myself a bit. A few drops of blood fell o He tapped the side of the cup immediately. I cut myself again, going deeper and wider than I meant to, and I watched in horror as the bottom of the cup filled and filled and filled. He grabbed my hand, stopping me from holding onto the wound. The blade cut into his arm. He didn’t care. It just kept dripping until he finally nodded in satisfaction.

Good. Now open up your throat.

He looked at me again and I knew what would happen if I did nothing. But even knowing what would happen to me if I didn’t, I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I want to live, everybody wants to live. Even if you want to die, you find that you still want to live when the razor blade is at your own throat. I kept shivering and he walked slowly back towards me. I couldn’t do it. I heard his thoughts very clearly but I couldn’t do it to myself anyway.

Cup and room. How long have I been here? I think it wasn’t so bad. He let me go. I thought it wasn’t so bad. There are many rooms and this one is mine. It’s been a few days. I don’t remember exactly where I am. I don’t hear him so loud here. Cup and room. I was going to fill my cup. There is blood on the shards, but only because I dropped it, not because I filled it properly.

Where am I? I didn’t cut myself properly. Where did he send me? I hear him thinking clearly now. He stands tall in the corner, brown suit neat, suspended above the floor by a rope. He blinks at me. Simple lessons. I need do a few things. I’m alright alright alright. It’s not so bad. You can hear me think. I’ll be wearing a suit myself any day now. He was always in the room, wasn’t he?

Not going to hold you, I've been waiting for this story to be posted.

This is probably the best story from you Nuke. The discord had a conversation about attributing things to authors outside their intent if they don't state it.

So I'd say the thing that this story draws me because I can't tell if what's happening is real or not. Also, it is an interesting depiction of madness on the part of Misha, not being able to tell the line between real and fake.

Here's my belated SX entry, really sorry it took so long to get it done for you Stiles! Hope you enjoy it, despite no longer really being the season for it. Thanks to Feurox for proofing for me.

Victim: Stiles Long
Prompt: Yamaku's Secret Santa accidentally misses a person, leaving them bereft of presents! Without resorting to sex, who makes up for this loss and how?

A Festive Flashback

"Wahaha!~~ I wonder who could have got you that Shicchan!" Misha boomed, her hands awkwardly trying to keep up as she signed to her new friend.

Shizune’s polite smile didn't reach her eyes as she placed her gift back in the box and put it by her feet. She looked over at the table everything had been piled on, [Yes. Well that seems to be the last present.] Out of the corner of her eye she could see Misha's long brown hair bouncing enthusiastically as she translated for those who didn't understand sign.

It hadn't been long since the brunette had started trying to translate for her, and she still struggled at times, mostly with speed and long amounts of signing. Shizune suspected sometimes her words weren't being translated exactly, but she had to admit it beat dragging a pad and pen around constantly.

Looking around the circle she noticed one girl sitting and awkwardly fidgeting next to Lily. Shizune was trying to remember what she had received, when she realised Misha was translating Lily's conversation with the girl. "-did you get from your Santa Hanako?"

"I uh, I d-didn't get, um." Hanako trailed off, her face nearly completely obscured by her hair. She was clearly unhappy about having this brought up and sank into her chair as if wanting to disappear. Hearing Misha translating her words, the parts of her face that were still visible went an even deeper shade of crimson and she hunched into herself as if for protection from the extra attention this brought her.

Shizune's eyes narrowed as she looked around the room for any signs of who might not have brought anything and still turned up to receive something. As she scanned the room she was already signing, [Who was supposed to get Hanako's gift?]

Everyone looked uncomfortably around at their fellow students, though none looked as uncomfortable as Hanako herself. Shizune's eyes finally came to rest on one of the boys from Lilly's class, quietly fidgeting with the hand-knitted red and yellow scarf he'd received.

For a moment he stared back defiantly through glasses so thick she couldn't be sure he could actually even see her. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and shouted something, gesticulating wildly the whole time. As abruptly as he'd jumped up he ran from the room, ranting and waving his arms around as he went.

Shizune turned to Misha who shrugged apologetically, [He was just shouting nonsense I think, something about feminist conspiracies?]

Shizune sighed and shook her head.

[As the organizers I feel we, the student council, are partly responsible, so how about we take you to the Shanghai for a meal as your gift?] she offered.

As soon as she had translated this, Misha followed along with her own suggestion, [Ooh, If you don't want that we could do this thing I heard about!~ It's called Yankee swap~, and everyone picks the gift they want so everyone is happy!~] she struggled over the finger spelling for the name, but Shizune had heard of it before. She wasn't sure that was exactly how it worked, but already Misha was translating ideas from other students as people started chipping in.

Without warning, Hanako went from cowering in her chair to bolt upright and dashed from the room. Misha shrugged again at Shizune's questioning gaze, [She, uh... Had to go do something?]

***

Hanako was sitting in the library reading when she finally noticed the dimming light as the sun started to dip outside the window. The library usually started closing around this time, so she should probably start to gather her things. She stretched, always surprised by how quickly a few hours could pass when she was immersed in her books.

As she went to stand she noticed a small parcel sat on the bookcase next to her, wrapped in crinkled newspaper with a purple ribbon around it. It definitely hadn't been there when she sat down, though she hadn't noticed anyone coming near her. She found this vaguely disconcerting, but had previously come out of her reading trance to notice people were sat near her that she hadn't noticed approach so it wasn't a new feeling.

Lifting it gently, she noticed a small label on the top which read "To Hanako, from Santa". She smiled softly to herself and put the parcel in her bag to open later. As she left the library there was a slight spring in her step that hadn't been there earlier in the day.

Away We Go Wassailing

Mutou sighed, and a spiral of his cold breath sailed away into the evening. He tapped his foot, tapped his watch, patted down his shirt. He coughed into his curled-up hand.

Of course they were late. As if tonight wasn’t going to be long enough already.

He sighed again.

At least it was snowing. There was always something beautiful about the snow, something really pure about it. It always managed to tease a smile out of him, like the snow and him had an impossible relationship, something he didn’t even understand himself. It made him happy. It reminded him of his late parents. It reminded him of his daughter, and then suddenly the snow made him sad.

“Mutou Sensei!”

He turned with a moody frown towards the loud voice. A pair of girls bounced towards him, one with long brown hair, and the other with long-ish blue hair. They stood out against the backdrop of the wintery campus grounds. Their energy, their bright and bubbly attitudes, it just didn’t fit with the quiet and subdued winter world around them all. He tried to give them an honest smile, but even the extra pay he was getting for chaperoning the young ladies wasn’t enough to make it seem genuine.

“Ms Mikado, Ms Hakamichi,” he stated gruffly. “Are we ready to go?”

The brown-haired girl, Mikado, translated for the one with blue hair, Hakamichi. The two were wearing their school uniforms under heavy fur coats. Mutou half expected them to arrive dressed in western holiday clothing, and for him to scold them for their inappropriate outfits, but the two had actually shown an unusual restraint for second year students. Then again, Hakamichi was a fairly serious young woman, so he wasn’t really that surprised. He was, however, surprised by the handful of girls that were approaching from the distance.

A handful of girls, and a woman who stood out as somehow separate from the group.

The short one he recognised immediately as Emi Ibarazaki, Yamaku’s native track star. He hadn’t taught her, but his friend in the nursing staff gushed about her a lot despite his otherwise professional attitude towards work. The man seemed to think of her as a kind of surrogate daughter, but Mutou figured it wasn’t his place to pry.

Alongside the short one was a short red-haired girl with no arms, and besides them both were two blonde ladies, though one had less of a feminine frame and was wearing a fairly stylish suit despite the wintery weather. All of the girls, (aside from the obviously older one in the suit) were wrapped up warm and gave the other two girls beside him a wave. The red-haired one wiggled her sleeves in the snow and looked fairly silly doing so.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Ibarazaki shouted and gleefully embraced Mikado. Unbeknown to Mutou, the two had been spending a lot of time together recently. Regardless, Hakamichi merely bowed to each of the girls as they arrived, and everyone returned the gesture.

“Yo Shizune, Shiina,” the older woman said with a shrug, before turning her attention to Mutou and bowing. “Satou Akira, and this is my younger sister Lilly, you must be Mutou?” Her tone was curious, but in a way that made Mutou feel like she knew everything there was to know about him. It was peculiar, but he had the feeling that even if he wanted to, he would never be able to lie to her. She seemed like the kind of person who saw more than you wanted them to in a person.

He coughed and pulled his jacket across his chest, before bowing before the girls. “Miss Ibarazaki, Miss Satou,” he nodded at the younger of the Satou sisters, “and Miss…”

“Tezuka,” Ibarazaki explained as Mutou looked over the girl with no arms. Someone had done a poor job of buttoning her jacket, as the middle button was clearly in the wrong hole.

“Of course,” he confirmed, “Miss Tezuka.” The sound of a passing car behind them interrupted his thoughts for a moment, but he composed himself and met the older Satou’s eyes. “Mutou, Akio.”

A tiny smile crept onto the side of her face, but it was replaced with a no-nonsense expression as soon as it had appeared.

“I didn’t know the girls had a teacher for tonight’s event, but saves me having to look after them all,” Akira laughed. Mutou smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck as the girls chattered excitedly. Hakamichi linked her arm with the younger Satou and the girls began heading towards the gates of Yamaku with a quick comment that they were ready now.

“Indeed,” Mutou said, and the girls seemed to race ahead whilst Akira and him walked slowly behind. He felt a bit like a father again, but he swallowed that feeling as deep inside as was possible.

A car meandered past, with its headlights dipped, the snow continued to fall slowly.

The night was awfully quiet, aside from the chatter of the girls and Mutou and Akira’s crunching footsteps on the powdered ground. She kept meaning to ask him something, but exactly what she didn’t know.

It seemed like all of them were characters; they were characters being plopped along by a child’s hand -recreating what it means to be alive from glimpses of an unreal life, glimpses through a child’s eyes on a doll house. They were in a Christmas story, and it always snows hard like this in Christmas stories. Except the snow was turning more into rain, and Mutou grumbled and pulled his jacket again.

The lights of the town continued to creep closer, and whilst the young ladies in front chattered and giggled, Mutou and Akira remained silent. They were guests, really. Child minders. Tonight, was nothing to do with them and everything to do with spreading some non-eastern festive cheer. Who cared if it was a bit odd, Akira thought, too many people exist and not enough people live. The man walking beside her seemed like someone who oscillated between both, but was never really either. What if in this world or the next they were characters in some story, wouldn’t that be a funny thought, she thought. No, no it would not, she decided.

The rag-tag group wondered through the slush and chatter until they reached their first destination, the outside of a park. The girls grouped up, linked arms, and terribly organised and awfully began to sing. Hakamichi smiled, and occasionally opened her mouth as though pretending to sing as well.

Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a-wand'ring
So fair to be seen.

“So, didn’t have better plans tonight?” Akira asked. Though the carolling was adorable, it wasn’t her thing, she was only there to make sure the girls were safe. Mutou seemed responsible, but she would have come anyway, she thought.

Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail, too,
And God bless you, and send you

“Not particularly, besides I live close by, so it just made sense that I would accompany them.” Mutou explained. Despite the fact that it was evident the girls hadn’t rehearsed this at all, or really even thought it through that much, he could tell they were having fun. That made him smile.

A Happy New Year,
And God send you a Happy New Year.

“Well, I’m sure they appreciate it.” Akira stated with a shrug, it was like blood from a stone with this guy. She wasn’t trying that hard. She wanted a beer.

We are not daily beggers
That beg from door to door,
But we are neighbors' children
Whom you have seen before
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail, too,
And God bless you, and send you
A Happy New Year,
And God send you a Happy New Year.

The girls gathered together again, giggling and chatting. A few people had gathered around to watch the display, and either clapped in an unsure way, or moved on. The whole thing was quite surreal, but there were plenty more spots to hit tonight and so the girls began to move again.

Akira and Mutou followed them from behind, maybe they’d pass a bar, Akira thought.

Maybe things could be better, Mutou thought. Maybe all the world needed was a little bit of cheer. It didn’t have to make sense; it didn’t even have to matter. It just had to happen.

It was all just waiting to happen, Mutou thought.

And he smiled into that slush/snow/rain, like his smile would last forever.

Because maybe that was enough.

It’s all just waiting to happen, he thought again.


_________________________________________________________________
Sorry its so late Shiranai! Happy Christmas/Happy Holiday!

Here was the prompt, for those wondering: Cast members go holiday carolling in the snow

As you can probably tell, I didn't know where to take this. It's christmas, and I wanted to be happy for Shira, and write something more cheerful. Did I forget how, or is this actually a happy one? I don't know.