Katawa Shoujo Forums

Well, your very welcome. And good work by the way. A few things bothered me a bit though.

After some struggling, I free my poor head and, placing the fresh set of panties inside of it, fold the top over itself and place the set onto the dresser; that way, I can keep the underwear out of storage, but not be out in the open for anyone to ogle should they stop by unexpectedly.

The way it's written now, it says she places panties inside her head. Which I assume isn't right. You could write "After some struggling, I free my poor head from my shirt and, etc etc..." instead, but it's up to you.

"i understand expressions, and I use them

The i should be uppercase. So...yeah, that's all I found in an otherwise good chapter.

A few grammar things; nothing major, but:

Misha makes her departure , locking the door and closing it afterward.

She is locking the door and closing it afterwards? And how does she lock it at all if she left the keys on the desk?
Enjoyed the chapter (again)

EDIT:
Hmm, I've never seen a door like that, but if you say they exist, I guess I'll believe you ^^°

Mirage_GSM wrote:A few grammar things; nothing major, but:

Misha makes her departure , locking the door and closing it afterward.

She is locking the door and closing it afterwards? And how does she lock it at all if she left the keys on the desk?

I assumed it was one of those doors where you can lock it by pushing a button on the inside handle. So open door, press button, exit, close door.

Bagheera wrote:

Mirage_GSM wrote:A few grammar things; nothing major, but:

Misha makes her departure , locking the door and closing it afterward.

She is locking the door and closing it afterwards? And how does she lock it at all if she left the keys on the desk?

I assumed it was one of those doors where you can lock it by pushing a button on the inside handle. So open door, press button, exit, close door.

it's this (or a similar function), though i notice a an extra space by the comma and i could easily just add a little something to prevent confusion. many common door locks in the US and UK are little tabs you twist of the sort (all of which can be opened with various faculty/housekeeping/maintenance keys). the dorm rooms at yamaku i believe have both simple tab locks and bolts. kenji's room must have had many augmentations of his own implementation, so i consider his room to be the exception to that idea, as he has a veritable assload of bolts i think.

as an aside, i actually appreciate when people spot things like that, little grammatical and procedural nitpicks, because it helps me realize little things i hadn't seemed to come across on my own merits for some reason. i still consider all that has been written a rough draft.

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update might need to wait until next week on account of my job/overtime soaking up much of my typing time, and i'm not moving near fast enough to make it this week unless i get some sort of crazy boost any day now. i don't like to leave something hanging like this, but don't want to post anything under 2000 words, and i still would like the next bits to be at least 3k apiece or more to make up for me not making a music track/presentation to go along with it. i intend to make a few music tracks later along the way in the other chapters, though, to supplement certain scenes if possible. hopefully, i can get it all to function for me to at least get that done.

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just gotta proofread the first half now... like 4000 words worth of text, so this should be fun

I skimmed over this yesterday, and it looks like something I might come back to in more detail later. The original character seems pretty well-realized, a bit grumpy and uptight without lapsing into scenery-chewing angst. I also thought the narration did a good job of subtly conveying the fact that she's blind -- I caught on pretty quickly, even though there weren't many blatant tells.

On a side note, this is not the first fanfic to make me feel incredibly frustrated that Misha's mannerisms annoy me so much, despite her being such a good, kind-hearted person.

CONTINUED - WARNING: there are some insinuations, and also a fairly direct statement about personal upkeep

I am awakened by a dreadful and terrifying sensation. With tears welling in my eyes, I grasp my open mouth desperately in confusion. One hand outstretched above me in restraint, the other struggling to remove... nothing. My muted scream becomes a gasp, and a dispirited exhalation. My legs, which were also raised in defense, ease slowly to a resting position.

Once I've come to terms with the nothingness I'd previously been suppressing with all of my might, it strikes me that I cannot recall exactly what it is I had imagined was personally invading me. My breathing is erratic and deep. Without checking, I can feel an intense warmth under the sheets, perspiration and an imaginary fever have. Without thinking it through, I throw the sheets off of my body and fight with my mind to piece together what frightening ordeal I've just experienced. Not satisfied in the temperature, I remove the slacks and kick them off the side, leaving only my underwear to cover my modesty, but I don't care right now.

"What... What the hell just happened?"

I run my fingers along my face, through my hair, and back down again. A palm upon my chest, I can feel my heart finding it difficult to relax, and my breathing is equally distraught. As the moments pass, both find their rhythms, and it's as if the entire scenario was just a memory - but a memory of what, exactly?

It felt like I was choking... like something was being shoved down my throat...

Then, I remember again, and it sickens me. After all these months, all this time, I cannot forget the lavage procedure. I was in a frightful daze at the time, and as I slowly faded into awareness, the fact that there was an arm-sized tube going down my esophagus became more and more encroaching to my person. I was crying. They were yelling about, arguing whether to sedate me or not. I remember one doctor saying it would have been dangerous to do so, and as a result, I lay awake while they slowly pulled fluids from my stomach.

I cried the entire time I was aware, with tears always on my face, and my cheeks becoming worn over time. I've only vomited once since then, due to a migraine that affected me quite harshly, and nearly collapsed from the memories alone. I've a history of waking abruptly and uncomfortably, but if this is surely an unpleasant way to rouse.

Lying completely awake in my bed, my sheets around my almost-bare waist, my top sticky and my mind seemingly out of steam... I can't help feeling like I should get up at this point. i breathe deeply once more, then lift my torso upwards, readjusting my legs into a crossed sitting. Hunched over myself, I simply think.

With the entirety of my legs exposed, the fabrics feel much cooler, and I am finding a comfort zone in this position. For all intents and purposes, I could go all the way and just sit in the nude while I'm here... but there's a lingering doubt in my head; a thought that in doing so, I would be tempting fate's inability to find a reason for someone to stop by unannounced some day - and I would likely forget the situation, making for a remarkably humble greeting.

My hair is a mess, draped over my face, bangs poking my eyes; to which I flick them aside, only to allow it to happen again. I grunt in protest and use both hands to flay much of it out of the way, righting myself before locking my grips upon the back of my neck. Sure that I can't find any more comfort out of this, I scoot myself over, being wary of the edge of the mattress, and set both feet to touch the floor of the dorm.

I probably should have checked that the blinds were shut before stripping down like this. There's only one possible place for a window, and I most likely have the desk acting as a barrier. To make sure, I hop off of the bed and sidle the desk's brim, feeling for the first bit of wall I can touch. I'm relieved and surprised to find thick drapery adorning the window, along with thin, closed, blinds.

I've never liked that terminology. Maybe it's too personal for me, but there should be a more practical name for the device. 'Shielding' would suffice as much.

Free to amble about without fear of accidental indecency, I take a few minutes and do what I should have done when I'd first arrived. I begin with the window, being in proximity, and gently feel the texture of the curtains - dull and effective; the same as the rest of the furnishings. Dissatisfied, I move onward along the wall, clockwise from the center. My fingers search as I slowly walk, taking in every minor bump and rough point.

As expected, the walls lay bare, with the exception of the clock, which I've determined is above the desk to my left. Even the far corners yield little in the way of personality, all freshly coated and empty, with much in the way of space for things I do not currently possess and likely will not purchase. Upon rounding my shoulder bag, and the location of my long-lost cane, I rescue both and whisk them, along with myself, to the bed where I began my circle.

Cane just under the bed, bag just beside, as I used to do.

At least I can fake some sense of order.

I'm still a bit groggy, though far less shaken from what happened when I awoke.

"What time is it?"

I place a finger over the dial of the special watch upon my left wrist, and I'm disappointed to learn that I'd only slept maybe two and a half hours at best. That leaves an awful amount of time to pass before I'm expected to sleep proper for the night, and I'd hoped to have gotten a decent rest to help kill some of the time.

I don't feel very rested.

Allowing gravity to do its thing, I fall back onto the bed once more, my legs dangling off its side at an odd angle adjacent to my own. It's been a long time since I was able to simply lay down like this without someone trying to get me to do something, or without some prior obligation that involved me getting yelled at by my stepmother for not following through. She would get so frustrated at me for not being like other teens.

There's still a pang of unease that she may secretly hate me - that she's been charged with my care, only to find that I am not like other children. She'd always treated me like I was helpless when in the first year or so, not letting me do anything on my own, or without her supervision. Even simple things like eating would have her explain the methods to me while I was already in the process.

Over time, she seemed to get the idea that I didn't always need help. She softened up, spent more time with my father, and let me go about my business. When I made breakfast for the two, she was dumbfounded I was even capable, but my father knew better.

But without him in the equation, though he is still there in part, she's decided an ideal for me that I doubt I can conform to. I'm the daughter she's inherited, not the daughter she's raised. Removing the entirety of a child's youth and learning years from someone who's only offspring suffered a premature death, then thrusting them to oversee the adolescence of a confused blind girl with special needs and a fixation on her troubles...

That's not ideal.

That's the cruelty of fate.

'Shit happens' is a popular existential phrase for a reason, I suppose.

My hands idle around me, sliding easily over the small folds of cloth covering the bed. It seems as though the harder I think about nothing, the more likely I am to either sit in statuesque stillness or allow my hands to wander. The thing is, sometimes, like right now, my fingers find their way to my thighs, with one hand running the width of my waist - and although right now would be a great time for something extra while I'm in the privacy of my own living space, I am in no mood mentally.

I'm not what I would consider a healthy young woman.

This disconnect between my body and mind doesn't help me feel better about myself. Even in this perfectly natural situation, I can't bring myself to do anything about it.

God, I'm boring.

My arms slide lazily to my sides in probably the last moment of energy I feel like acting upon. I poke the fleshy skin of my upper leg with the tips of my fingers and frown a little.

...And I'm squishy, too.

Just laying there like I'm incapable of moving, the thought of even attempting to get back up becomes more and more absurd. My thoughts become hazy again, and my memory fuddles into abstract rambles. With no permission of mine, I disappear as before into a state of soft slumber.


*****

I awaken with a start, but lacking the overbearing fear from the previous episode. My torso raises in alertness, my ears attentive. As usual, everything begins fuzzy, but surely becomes clearer after a few moments of conscious effort. I thought I heard... something. My hands clench the covers tightly as I sit in an almost perfect stillness.

Then, I hear it again, this time in a very deliberate and comprehensible manner.

There's a rasping at my door. It's not forceful, nor is it weak. When my brain catches up to my ears, I take a second to think before speaking.

"Ah, just a minute."

Who could be visiting me. I don't think it'd be Misha or Lilly. Misha would probably pound the frame off the hinges with enthusiasm, and Lilly likely wouldn't so much as tap the thing without apologizing. I almost tumble when my foot discovers one of the smaller bags I'd packed with toiletries and other necessities. Luckily, I catch myself and continue forward.

"Hang on," I say assuringly. "I'm not used to the layout yet..."

When my outstretched hand discovers the wall, I realize with a mental thud that I've overshot the door by several steps. Sidling again to correct my mistake, my fingers graze the tab to the door's lock, of which I unlock and grab the knob itself. Clear of the door's arc, I open it to an acceptable degree and bow apologetically.

"I'm sorry. It's my first day here, and I don't know the place very well."

A very sweet and clear voice speaks to me, very feminine and soft. The subtle fragrance of cherries grabs my attention for some reason. Candy must be very popular at this school.

"You don't need to apologize. I probably should have come by earlier, but I had Music Club." She pauses briefly. "You are Naofumi Kurei, right?"

I bow again, this time slightly less pitifully, though wary of the door I'm pressed beside. "Naofumi Kurei. Pleased to meet you."

"Ah, I forgot too!" She immediately remedies the matter. "Kayane Niijima. I'm one of the student assistants to Yoshino's class and I'm here to deliver the audio presentation they listened to today. The CD's in my backpack and..." She talks so happily as she slings her pack onto the floor in between us, herself having crouched to dig through its contents. Then, after some shuffling, the noise ceases, and she speaks up from her position, a curious tone to her voice. "Ummm... is this... a good time?"

"Hmm?"

She stands again, pulling her backpack to its rightful place.

"Did I wake you? I didn't mean to, uhh, interrupt anything."

It is at this moment when I recall that I am no longer wearing legged pants of any kind, and unknowingly neglected to grab the buttoned shirt like I'd originally planned to wear over myself in this situation. I also remember... that I don't remember what I did with it after freeing it from the luggage. So here I stand, my undershirt clinging quite tightly to my chest against my will, and my dainties being the only thing between a complete stranger and my exceptionally private privates.

I have unsuccessfully prevented the ogling of panties.

And she was previously at a very low angle where she must have noticed my attire.

I've never been so proud of myself for trimming as I am at this moment in my life, however ridiculously frank that statement may be.

My expression must be priceless, the moment of total comprehension to what I've just done; a minor stint in voyeurism. Just as my anxiety creeps from the lowest part of my spine... she laughs. It's not a teasing laugh, or some sort of taunt to my humility... It's a nice, almost joyful chuckle.

"Here's the CD, by the way."

I move out from my new hiding place behind just beyond the protection of the door and reach my hand out to accept the item. She places one of her hands under my own while she rests the album case lightly onto the edge of my palm, allowing me to grab it comfortably with my fingers. Once she can tell I have a firm grip, she pulls back.

Her touch is gentle, as if she's done this sort of thing before. She said she was an assistant to the blind class, so she's more than likely dealt with those of us without sight many times throughout her tenure as a helper.

The extra care is endearing when I think about it, and a slight lingering touch as she withdraws secures this idea.

"Haha, you're alright, really. One time, my friend Shiro stopped by and I forgot to button up my uniform. I'd also apparently forgotten to put a bra on, too. He didn't get the full show, but it was good fun." She laughs again. "I don't forget anymore. No one's out here right now, so you won't have an audience or anything."

My weakened smile becomes more pleasant and relaxed. She seems nice. My hands have dropped slightly down the length of the door, no longer holding it at such a strict distance. Although half of me is still hiding behind the wooden barrier the door provides, I find myself swaying slightly to my left, and then my right.

"Besides," she says, "you've got plenty to show off if you felt like it."

I don't really want to, though.

Then why am I moving like this?

I try to repress the smile further, but I've been flattered too deeply for now.

"I got hot in my bed."

That sounds terrible, Fumi.

"ERR - I mean," I take a moment to plot my speech. "I wasn't feeling well, and tried to cool myself off. My slacks were a casualty, and I really didn't think this through. I even had a shirt ready in case someone came by, but I might have... misplaced it."

"...Do you need help looking for it? I'm trying to waste some time, anyway."

Another person offering to help me today. This is stunningly trivial. I can't imagine why she'd be interested in simply glancing about my room for a minute, but...

"Sure, if you don't mind. I'd feel better if I had a bit more cover, you know?"

I have this inkling of a feeling that someone may just barge in at any moment and catch sight of me like this, regardless of the aforementioned empty hallway.

I back away from the doorway and sway the door enough for her to enter my barren room. She trots in and immediately asks, "Is it that red shirt?"

I waste no second of deliberations and sharply reply, "No." The last thing I need is for her to stumble upon even more of my underwear, especially stashed away panties like those. That would be requiring an overly complicated explanation I would likely topple over halfway through. When I'm confident that she's cleared the door's swing, I close it almost completely so I can walk about more freely (and also to refrain from making it seem like I've trapped her in my domain).

"Oh," she says. After a few seconds of silence, she tries again. "Is it a white shirt? A button-up?"

I smile. "Yes, it is. Could you bring it to me?"

"Sure!" She giggles as she does so. I set my hands open at waist height, and after a quick bout of travel, she steps toward me and hands me the top, folded over slightly. I gladly slide myself into its sleeves and button the majority of the little fasteners, down to up. It creates a functional drape over my bottom, so I've at least eliminated most of my panties from casual view, I'd think.

The shirt is still too tight on my chest. I fear it may have shrunk over time, or I've grown more than I'd like again. Instead of fighting with it, I leave the top three buttons undone for the sake of comfort.

"Oh, hey!" she exclaims. I perk up at the statement, and before I can ask the obvious question, she clarifies herself. "Your clock actually works!"

That stupid clock. Wait.

"Yours doesn't?"

"No," she says, and I get the impression that she's shaken her head. "It lasted about a year, but the little hand stopped moving a while back. It can tell me the minute, but the hour's rather hit-or-miss."

I've deduced a solution.

"Considering I don't have a use for it; if you want," I straighten the shirt again, since it's somewhat misshapen from storage, "you can take it with you. It's just gonna annoy me if it's in here."

"Right. I guess it's good for you to get a break from sound every once in a while, huh?"

Actually, yes; sometimes I don't want to hear anything. After a long day of listening and touching every surface I can for the sake of survival and mobility, I would relish the opportunity to not be invaded by the incessant ticking of a clock I cannot use, or remove on my own, while I attempt to rest my senses in a mediocre bed.

"Yea. You spend a lot of time around the blind students, don't you?"

"On Monday and Thursday afternoon, and Saturday mornings, I'm usually helping out the first years. There are three classes this year, so I can't try to do them all."

"There aren't always three?" Lilly mentioned there being three classes, and I think I remember her telling me that if there weren't so many students that they wouldn't need the extra rooms for it.

"Last year, there were two, but since there were a lot of students coming in, they opened one of the unused classrooms and fitted it for another class."

I finally locate the bed and sit myself down. Normally, I'd be wishing for her to leave, her job done for now. However, she's taken to conversation rather well, and I, admittedly, like this sort of free chat.

"So, Kayane, if you help out on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, what brought you over here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Lilly Satou; the girl who gave you the tour earlier." It will take some effort to forget the 'tour'. "She came back to class just after the presentation ended and right when I stopped by. My Biology was over early, and I thought I could help out for a bit." She slides one of her shoes along the floor, the subtle friction hissing just under her breath. Hopefully, she's not dragging anything unbefitting a new and relatively perfect lay of carpet.

Her breathing is so quiet in itself, but I find myself paying maybe too much focus on it. When I'm around others in a very close and safe environment like this, I have a tendency to absorb as much of their presence as possible, be it scent or sound - each hint of their existence is assuring to the fact that they are here and near me. It bothers me when all I can rely on is a voice. It's then as if they aren't even in the room at all.

Right here, right now, I am very aware of Kayane's presence, even with a little as her movements are in comparison to , say, Misha, who exceedingly let herself be known when in proximity.

Lost in thought, I nearly loosen my grip on the CD case. I reflexively tighten my hold in time to prevent any embarrassing incidents, but this has reminded me of the reason this girl is in my room in the first place.

"So... what exactly, "I hold the case in display for her, "is this supposed to be?"

"You know, that's a good question. I didn't pop in until the class was already finished with it, so I couldn't tell you." She takes a few steps closer to me. I instinctively slide further from her on the bed. It may seem off-putting, but I'm uneasy about her getting too near. I suppose I'm having mixed emotions about someone so willing to be friendly this quickly into after the initial greetings. Misha was on the ball within seconds also, but I didn't meet her in my bedroom while wearing practically nothing.

"It doesn't even have a label or anything," she says. That faint smell of cherries is carried on her words. There's a tangy quality to it, so it's likely whatever candy she's had was a potent sour brand. I'm actually a big fan of sour candies, though I don't actively go for sweets.

I'm beginning to miss the little shop down the road form my home, a private store with homemade foods and candies.

'You do have a CD player; right, Naofumi?" I can hear Kayane shifting her weight, the backpack settling with a crunch as she does so. Books, as far as I can tell.

"Oh yeah, there should be one in the..."

Oh, COME ON.

"I... forgot it at home, apparently."

Shit is in most definitely in the process of happening right now. Lilly made sure to ask Kayane to deliver this to me, and here I am in a state of unpreparedness and sudden guilt that someone has wasted their efforts on me. For such a minor defeat, I feel awful, especially to the blunt irony of the situation.

It's like the games my father used to play, where you'd have to go through some arduously long sequence, only to discover that you were supposed to get some out-of-the-way jewel or something that you need to open the final door, which you do not possess because it never came to mind at the time. Even if they told you in passing, the thought never resurfaced until it was too late.

"Well, if you want..." Kayane begins, being sure to put an obvious pause for emphasis, "I could bring over my notebook and we can both check it out. I've got nothing else going on, and I'm kinda curious what this is all about. That is, if you wouldn't mind the company."

"No, really, you don't need to do any more for me."

You've seen me in my underwear and helped me get dressed. That's already more than I'm comfortable with.

She's very intent on being as friendly as she is able. I wonder if this is her personality, or maybe it's an inherent duty of some sort to help those of us without sight whenever possible. She could just be so used to that sort of company, I guess.

"Consider it a trade for your clock, since mine sucks," she barters.

"Alright. Deal."

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FUN FACT: 'popular' is an easily misspelled word, as it turns out. had almost zero spelling mistakes i could find except for 'poplar'. may be a missing capital letter here and there. that seems to be my most hated enemy in text.

next part will be the last. this ended up being just over 4k words, so i'd expect the next bit to be about the same, but if i feel the need, i won't stop typing until i have nothing more to say.

darkmelee wrote: next part will be the last. this ended up being just over 4k words, so i'd expect the next bit to be about the same, but if i feel the need, i won't stop typing until i have nothing more to say.

Like "finale" last or "Act" last? I hope just act, because I was enjoying the blind perspective and it feels like you could write lots more. I thought you pulled it off rather well. And I was secretly hoping for some years down the line Misha love lol. That girl could use some love after how bad I felt for her in the Shizune arc.

Daitengu wrote:

darkmelee wrote: next part will be the last. this ended up being just over 4k words, so i'd expect the next bit to be about the same, but if i feel the need, i won't stop typing until i have nothing more to say.

Like "finale" last or "Act" last? I hope just act, because I was enjoying the blind perspective and it feels like you could write lots more. I thought you pulled it off rather well. And I was secretly hoping for some years down the line Misha love lol. That girl could use some love after how bad I felt for her in the Shizune arc.

Same thing really. I like the narrative, and to be honest, the stories pretty good as well. And I'm once again second...er...third guessing the romantic interest of the story

Daitengu wrote:

darkmelee wrote: next part will be the last. this ended up being just over 4k words, so i'd expect the next bit to be about the same, but if i feel the need, i won't stop typing until i have nothing more to say.

Like "finale" last or "Act" last? I hope just act, because I was enjoying the blind perspective and it feels like you could write lots more. I thought you pulled it off rather well.

Agreed. You can get a lot of mileage out of this story if you're so inclined; Naofumi is a compelling character, and her interactions with supporting cast both familiar and non ring true in many ways. I hope you don't run out of things to say for a long, long time.

Bagheera wrote: I hope you don't run out of things to say for a long, long time.

I second this! I've been looking forward to this all week and was not disappointed .

Naofumi is quite an interesting and believable character.

to clarify~

what i have posted so far has all been the first chapter, ending in the next bit.

there are two chapters left in the entirety of the story itself.

not sure whether i should continue in this thread when the time comes or start a new one. i'm sure i'll have an idea by that time, though. the title originally referred to the first half of the chapter, but i never named the rest, and just sort of kept going with it, eventually making the first two chapters originally into one. while that meant i'd be making the sequences shorter than anticipated, i think it helped the flow a lot better that way.

thank you all for your encouragement. i don't think i've been as thorough as i'd like to be, but it's good to hear positive marks of any kind.

that said, i hope i can get this last part out before too long. if i were to take a guess, it'd be next sunday or monday (judging by my first night of work after having only one day off), so just hang tight and chill, and hopefully everything will turn out alright.

Best keep the whole story in one thread - easier to read for late-comers.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Best keep the whole story in one thread - easier to read for late-comers.

indeed.

Expanding on Mirage's sentiment, if you are worried about readers getting lost the thread, just add links to each section of your story into your opening post.

i has a question.

with regards to the use of braille usage in the story (later and maybe some insertions into already-posted bits), i ask you:

is it better to use braille that is already translated in meaning (as in, it's in english braille grade 1 or 2 already, might use grade 1 for ease of use since i don't have any moment where it would be mentioned, since it's supposed to supplant for japanese in the first place) or should it be in tenji, with only its meaning translated into english (as in, if it were to be put through a translator, it would equal roughly whatever naofumi says it reads, but if you were to really look into it, it would be direct japanese).

EX: literal japanese tenji

⠅⠌⠭⠷

that would read na-o-fu-mi, which makes sense, and she would say it as such. the only language barrier comes in how many characters it requires.

but would it be better to have her name read like this instead, english grade 1:

⠝⠁⠕⠋⠥⠍⠊

being both already in english and braille at the same time, despite being inaccurate to the character's natural language?

the downside to the former is that it takes a lot of time to cross-transcribe everything, especially for anything longer than a few words on account of japanese grammar, but it adds a lot of believability. i would rather use the latter, on account of an inability to keep up with translation when it starts getting complicated. i will continue to use the word 'braille' as a generic term, though i might have 'tenji' mentioned at some point.

on a related note, i'm only like 2k words into the final part of the chapter due to my job, and i'm starting to worry about my ability to keep at it and get it out at a respectable time, so i guess hang tight and be patient and everything should turn out alright in the end. last time i worried, i hammered it all out with little trouble after a few days of trickles, so hopefully i can get the proper oomph and finish this thing without stumbling too hard.

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EDIT: roughly 5500 words incoming soon, might touch it up after proofreading. hopefully i can get it up today, so if it's not up by morning, then it WILL ABSOLUTELY be up late night tonight after i get off of work. that's just a lot of text to sift through. it really sucks that i had to redo so much of it :S

Well, I guess that depends on your familiarity with

a) the Kana-system and
b) the English, respectively Japanese Braille-system

The former shouldn't be a problem. You've already demonstrated your familiarity with your example.
So it comes down to what Braille system you are more familiar with. Personally, I think the Japanese one is A LOT easier, because it's as systematic as the Kana-alphabet itself.
On the other hand the whole VN is written in English; Misha is using the English alphabet when teaching Hisao sign-language etc.
On the gripping hand, it's your story, so just do what you think is best.