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Hoitash wrote:Drow sign language.

The Salvatore fan in me let out a giddy yelp at reading this phrase.

Helbereth wrote:

Hoitash wrote:Drow sign language.

The Salvatore fan in me let out a giddy yelp at reading this phrase.

Ah, but you'd have to be able to see in the infrared to read it in the dark...

Helbereth wrote:

Mirage_GSM wrote:

Helbereth wrote:The Salvatore fan in me let out a giddy yelp at reading this phrase.

Ah, but you'd have to be able to see in the infrared to read it in the dark...

I'm saving that gif

In a world where I FINALLY took my Master of Arts exams, and Hisao plays too much poker with not enough cash, three men will prove that no matter how stoned or drunk you are, there is nothing more sobering than mortal peril.

Ladies, gentlemen, and the mole people below my old apartment, I present:


Hisao and Kenji: Apocalypse Cow


The true measure of a man varies from culture to culture and time period to time period. There are, however, some constants of what being a man entails that transcends such petty barriers as time and space. One of these is that a man, a true man, always settles his debts.

This is why, one night during the summer of my freshman year of college, I was in a small wooded area that bordered some poor random bastard’s farmland. Within the woods, in camouflage patterned pants and jacket, I wearily glanced at my two partners in insanity: my recurring lab partner, Oji Homma, and my best friend and primary headache inducer, Kenji Setou.

Both of them were taking tonight way too seriously, and neither one was doing it sober. Oji, a brilliant budding physicist who could do advanced math in his head that even I needed a calculator for, was an avid stoner, and tonight was no exception. Dressed in archaic camo patterned pants and shirt, his face done up in camouflage paint and a black bandana over his forehead to keep his scraggly brown hair out of his face, a large joint was clamped firmly in his mouth, its wispy smoke forming a thin cloud around him, and I was grateful for being downwind of him. He also had a bandolier of joints across his chest, and several bags of beef jerky tied to his belt. In his hands he had a large open bag of fortune cookies, which he continually proceeded to crack open, read the fortune, read the Chinese on the back and then eat said cookie.

Kenji had gone a couple steps further, if that were possible. Somehow he had found a ghillie suit, and was decked out like a Vietnam Conflict era sniper, except instead of a scoped rifle, he had a bottle of Jack Daniels- empty and held up like a club- and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label –half empty and stuffed with a soaked cloth, for use as a Molotov cocktail if we needed it.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” I murmured, looking out to the vast field before us, which was presently filled with meandering cows.

“Well, you shoulda thought of that before you raised,” Kenji said as he attempted to gaze at the herd as well.

“Who the fuck doesn’t pick up any cards and gets a fucking heart flush?” I hissed.

There was the crack of a cookie being opened, “fortune favors the bold,” Oji replied, “Ni hao. Oh, and I do,” he added, before popping the cookie into his mouth.

“Okay men,” Kenji declared, turning slightly to gaze in my general direction, “our objective is that cow roughly fifty yards in front of us, and ten degrees to the right. Mr. Homma, as our resident cow-tipping expert, you will lead both the assault, and the tipping demonstration itself, understood?”

Crack, “you will do well in business this week. Wo e le. Understood, Setou-dono.”

“You two really need to stop playing Call of Duty,” I grumbled.

“You’re just jealous my e-peen is bigger then yours,” Kenji countered.

I grumbled something incoherent and unflattering regarding Kenji’s scarf before stating, “Can we just get this over with? I’m supposed to be studying.”

“Good point, man,” Kenji said, “Mr. Homma, begin the assault at your discretion.”

Crack, “love is on your side. Wanshang hao. Before we begin, it is important to remember that cow tipping as such is just a tool of Big Brother –that is, it can’t be done. As you can see,” Oji paused to point at the field, “the cows before us are not sleeping standing up. Cows do not sleep standing up. The cows before us that are standing are awake. Thus, we must be cautious, as an awake cow can easily become the most deadly fucking hamburger you will ever encounter.”

“Don’t these things weigh like, half a ton?” I asked, “Can we even tip them?”

Oji raised a pointed finger skyward in the traditional educator gesture of “I’m getting there.” Pausing to inhale and breath out, he stated, “In theory, we should be able to. The three of us can exert a decent amount of force on a specific point, and should, therefore, theoretically be able to overcome the animal’s balance. Doing so involves a lot of math that I thought over on the way here-”

“When you weren’t listening to The Pillows on the radio,” Kenji muttered.

“Better then that gaijin metal crap you listen to,” Oji snapped, “anyway, yes, it is possible. The problem arises from the somewhat annoying fact that the cow is awake while we try to tip it.”

“Are you sure you did the math right?” I asked, “You did have a brownie before we got here.”

“I am sure,” Oji declared, “and I do not appreciate your negative energy.”

“Understood Oddball,” I muttered.

“There’s also the bull to consider,” Kenji stated as he looked out at the field, “I don’t see him.”

“He’s out there,” Oji declared, “he desires our flesh and blood on his horns, like an emblem to the Chaos god Khorne,” crack, “you will live long and prosper –okay, that’s just lazy…”

“Explain to me again why this is a good idea?” I asked.

“Because,” Oji replied, “to enjoy the meat of the animal, one must first understand and respect the animal, like the Native Americans of North America, or the Russians wherever there’s a McDonalds.”

“Huh?” I asked, “wait, how does abusing the animals show respect for them?”

…Crack, “wisdom is knowing the direction, not the destination. Xi.”

“He’s right,” Kenji declared, “cow tipping is not about the cow, it’s about asserting our dominance over the bovine menace. They must be reminded that we are the sapient creature, and are thus their masters.”

“Yes, a cow revolution would be devastating,” I quipped, “you’re cut off for the night, by the way. Can we just get this over with, please?”

Kenji sighed and shook his head, causing the fake leaves and sticks of his ghillie suit to rustle in the still night air, “Dude, you need to lighten up. Just because you’re our DD doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. In fact, you shall have the privilege of leading the second assault!”

Kenji patted my shoulder and I couldn’t help but snark, “gee, thanks, Setou-dono. You are truly a benevolent and generous commanding officer.”

“Damn straight I am!” Kenji declared, “Mr. Homma, on your command, we begin.”

Crack, “sorry, I’m too hungry to read this one.”

“…Did you just eat the paper?”

“…I do feel wiser…”

Wondering how many millions of spirits I had pissed off to deserve this fate, I silently waited for Oji to give the command to advance on the poor unsuspecting bovine.

“On your mark, Mr. Homma,” Kenji whispered, clearly eager to engage the “enemy.”

Oji slowly nodded, carefully tucking the bag of cookies into his waistband with one hand. With the other, he pulled a lighter from a pocket, and, placing it in the now free hand, he used the other to grab the joint. Exhaling slowly, the few, scattered wisps of smoke slowly left his mouth to hang in the air. Sighing lightly, he placed the joint back in his mouth and inhaled a long, slow drag.

“Now.”

In a flash of movement he was ahead of us, skulking forward through the field towards our target. He lifted the lighter and clicked it, signaling for us to follow.

“Here we go,” Kenji whispered, and he, too, skulked forward, looking like a drunken shrubbery as he sauntered towards the cow.

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and followed, keenly aware that the cow was looking straight at us with the best “what the fuck, man?” expression I had ever seen produced by livestock.

“…Moo?”

“Fuck, it spotted us,” Kenji snapped.

“Get down!” Oji hissed, dropping to the ground as the cow continued to stare at us.

Kenji hit the ground as well, while I just stood there, lamenting my lot in life and wondering if it was too late to order a pizza on the way back to the dorms.

“Dude, get down!” Kenji hissed.

“Why?” I asked as I kneeled low to the ground, more to humor Kenji than any other reason.

“Moo?!”

“That’s why,” Oji replied, “you alerted the horde.”

The cow slowly stepped back, keeping an eye on us as it did so. While we just waited, I heard another cow not too far away moo in confusion, then another further away, then another, and so on, until it seemed like Gondor had called for aid with cattle calls.

“Buddha’s backside,” Oji hissed, “we are so fucked now.”

“Why?” I asked.

Off in the distance, the response to my semi-rhetorical question came in the form of a moo-like howl. The sound was an ethereal, haunting call that seemed to be half scream of rage, and half mating cry.

“He knows we’re here,” Oji whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

Before I could reply, the call came again, a rage filled moo that set the herd trotting away from us to form a circle a few hundred yards away.

“Run!” Oji barked as he hauled himself up, “The bull’s coming!”

“Fuck!” Kenji snapped, also getting up.

The two quickly bolted past me back into the woods, and I turned to tell them they were overreacting. Then I heard the call again, except this time it was much closer. As I tilted my head to listen, I could have sworn I heard the sound of half a ton of galloping animal against soft earth.

“Shit,” I muttered, and trotted off after the two.

“You there, man?” Kenji asked once I re-entered the forest.

The two were roughly a dozen meters ahead of me, bolting at full pelt for the fence we had jumped to enter the farmland. The fence seemed insanely far away in the cloudless night, and forest or no forest, the fence may as well have been on the other side of Asia for me.

“Not for long if that thing catches up,” I snapped, “which, I would like to remind you, it probably can, because if it doesn’t, there’s a good chance I’ll give myself a heart attack trying to outrun it!”

“Mr. Homma, take up the rear,” Kenji ordered, “and pop smoke when you can.”

“Fuckin’ Vietnam, man!” Oji barked, “they’re gonna come outta the trees, like fuckin’ Aussie’s!”

“Oji!” I snapped, “Focus!”

Oji sighed and shook his head, trying to force some sanity into that marijuana filled mind of his.

“Taking up the rear,” Oji said, managing to quell his freak out long enough to slow his pace.

Grateful for my endurance training and Emi’s insistence I take up running, I was able to jog at a half decent clip, slowly catching up with Kenji as Oji slowed his pace to take up the rear. As he did so he started pulling out joints from his bandolier, lighting them with the lighter and tossing them randomly behind him.

“You really think that’ll help?” I asked.

“It did the last time I did this,” Oji replied. A few moments later he added, “Smoke deployed, sir!”

“Excellent!” Kenji declared, “Now keep running for the fuckin’ fence!”

“Running is a good plan,” I quipped, “even for me.”

I heard the rage induced ethereal moo cry behind us again, and, despite every synapse in my mind stating not to, I looked behind me –and regretted doing so immediately, of course.

To no one who has never seen a massive, dark brown bull galloping at you, bursting from the woods like some sort of woodland demon, snarling and huffing as it’s massive horns seemed to glint in the moonlight –though that was just my imagination, I’m sure- it’s really hard to describe. In that moment, my mind went through several random thoughts. One, when was the last time I had eaten a burger, and if it had been good enough to warrant repeating the experience. Two, being gored to death seemed like a really stupid and painful way to die. Three, if Oji was gored to death, breaking the news to his parents would suck.

Finally, and probably the thought that should’ve been first in mind: HOLY FUCK A BULL WAS CHASING ME AND MY SCHIZOPHRENIC FRIEND AND HIS WILLIE NELSON/ENRICO FERMI WANNABE PARTNER IN CRAZINESS AND I’M GOING TO DIE AND HANAKO IS DOOMED AND THANK GOD SHE DIDN’T CHOOSE TO CONVERT TO HINDUISM BECAUSE THEN IF SHE EVER FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS SHE’D BE EVEN MORE MAD THEN SHE WOULD BE NORMALLY.

Part II:

That was about the point I figured I had developed a contact high, “Damnit Oji, your damn smoke got me stoned, too!”

“Good!” Oji remarked, “If it worked on you, it’ll slow down the bull, too.”

“If it doesn’t, your ass is getting haunted!” I snapped.

“Less talking, more running!” Kenji barked.

“Are we even sure it’ll stop at the fence?” I asked.

“He will,” Oji declared, picking up his pace to run even with me, “Bulls have a strong but extremely primitive sense of territoriality. Once we pass the fence he’ll leave us alone. You okay, man?”

“For now,” I replied, panting from the exertion of running like my life depended on it –which it most likely did, as I doubt if the bull caught me he’d just lick my face and want to play catch.

“Almost there!” Kenji declared, his rustling form dashing ever closer to the seemingly impossibly far away fence, which had somehow gotten much closer.

Again the bull roared, but this roar seemed more muted, more sedate. I glanced behind me and watched as the bull galloped through the pall of cannabis smoke toward us, its tongue hanging out of its mouth as it loudly inhaled deeply. Its pace had slowed, and its breathing seemed more labored then before.

“Holy shit,” I gasped, “it worked!”

“Of course it did!” Kenji panted, “I know what I’m doing, and so does Oji!”

“Damn straight!” Oji declared, his own breathing both panting and raspy, though somehow he had kept the single joint clamped firmly between his teeth.

The galloping, roaring bull huffed and snorted lazily as we continued our mad dash to safety. Kenji made it first, hopping over the part of the fence with a broken board we had used to enter the field. My heart pounded and my breath went ragged as I finally made it to the fence. Unable to hop it, I more or less stumbled and tumbled over it, lying on my back and gasping for breath as I felt Oji land nearby.

“All troops present and accounted for, Setou-dono,” Oji declared.

“Fantastic,” Kenji declared, “what’s the bull doing?”

“Eating the joints,” Oji stated, “those were my best ones, too.”

“They knew the risks,” Kenji said, and I slowly turned my head to watch him salute the fallen cannabis comrades.

“Their sacrifice was not in vain,” Oji concurred, “Hisao, you okay?”

“Fuck… your…couch,” I snapped, my hand clamped firmly on my chest as I struggled to steady my breathing and my heart rate.

Despite the exertion, the adrenaline from fight or flight seemed to be countering my arrhythmia, so while my heart rate was erratic and fast paced, it wasn’t painful, and slowly it resumed a more normal rate, for me at least.

I heard the rustling of Kenji’s ghillie suit as he kneeled next to me, “you okay, man?”

I nodded, “surprisingly, yes. Now let’s get outta here.”

“Agreed,” Kenji said, and he helped me up on me feet.

Dusting myself off, I glanced around to try and remember the direction of the car. With one last glance at the occupied bull, I stepped toward where I thought I remembered parking, confident that the night’s danger was over.

Then the shot rang out.

“What was that?” Oji asked, his head darting around at the sound.

“Remington 870 pump action shotgun,” Kenji replied, “twelve gauge.”

I saw a glimmer of light in my peripheral vision. Turning to face it, off in the distance, I could just make out a lone farmhouse, its lights on and glowing in the night.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed, “we woke up the farmer.”

Another shot rang out, followed by someone shouting incoherently in the distance.

Kenji turned to face me, the empty bottle held tightly in one hand, “you remember where the car is?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” I replied.

“Good enough. Advance to the rear!”

“Trotting speed!” Oji added, “I ain’t carrying your corpse to the car, Hisao!”

“Gee, thanks!” I snapped.

A rapid trot was difficult in the grass, but it sure beat a heart attack, and using my running shoes helped. I took the lead, followed by Kenji, with Oji in the rear to provide covering fire, or something. Mostly he was just having a freak out.

“Who the fuck has a gun in Japan?” he snapped, “besides the Yakuza?”

“It’s a rule,” Kenji huffed, “all farmers are allowed one shotgun in case of weddings.”

“What is this, the Showa period?” I asked.

“Get off my lawn!” the farmer’s distant shout was barely audible. To make up for that, he fired his shotgun again, and its loud bark sent a chill down my spine.

“I told you man!” Oji snapped, “It’s like fuckin’ ‘Nam, man! Aussies everywhere!”

“Oji!” I wheezed, “Focus, and do you remember where we parked?”

“To the right of that grain silo,” Oji said, managing to stay coherent long enough to indicate the only silo on the horizon, which seemed stupidly far away.

“Right, we parked under it to avoid detection,” I sighed.

“And covered it with bramble,” Kenji added.

“We’re not gonna make it!” Oji yelped.

“We will, too!” I retorted, “Its one farmer with one gun, there’s no way he can catch up to us!”

I was so confident in my logic it took me a moment to hear the barking of dogs. My brain refused to believe what it had heard for a moment, but then reality set in. The farmer had unleashed the hounds.

“We got dogs, incoming!” Kenji panted.

“He got a killstreak already?” Oji whined, “Great, we’re fucked!”

“Oji!” I snapped.

“Game over, man! Game over!”

“We’ll see about that!” Kenji declared.

I heard the flicker of a lighter and glanced behind me in time to see Kenji light the rag he had stuffed into the half-filled bottle of scotch. Pausing long enough to make sure the fuse was lit, he tossed the flaming projectile and yelled, “Trick or treat, motherfucker!”

“Less arson, more running!” I wheezed, “Oji, deploy jerky!”

“Huh?” Oji asked.

“That’s brilliant!” Kenji declared as he resumed his trot to safety, “Oji, open a bag of beef jerky and deploy it to cover our withdrawal! It’s the only thing that can stop the dogs!”

“First my weed, now my food?” Oji asked, “That ain’t fair, man!”

“Throw the jerky or we’ll throw you instead!” I snapped.

“Dude, harsh, man,” Oji grumbled.

“Less stereotypical grumbling, more throwing!” I rasped out; escaping and talking at the time was really starting to wear on my lungs and throat.

I heard the ripping of plastic as Oji reluctantly complied, tossing the beef jerky behind us as we managed to near the silo.

“We’re almost there!” I declared.

“You gonna make it?” Kenji huffed.

“I hope so,” I muttered.

My heart rate was going crazy, but it wasn’t painful or too erratic, just fast paced. I knew from my running routine that I was pushing myself close to the edge of my limits. The strain was making it hard to breath, there was a stitch in my side, and I had a feeling the only reason I hadn’t toppled over yet was the adrenalin coursing through my system trying to keep me running. A recurring situation for me, as things would turn out.

The sound of barking and snarling dogs slowly diminished, while the farmer’s rantings, ravings, and occasional gunshots grew more frequent, but also more distant. At last we reached the cover of the silo, its stalwart frame a shield against the night’s horrors. Safely tucked under a pile of brambles and branches was the car, a rented, rickety Honda Kenji had obtained for the occasion.

“Car’s here,” I wheezed, leaning heavily against the silo to catch my breath and calm my heart.

“Excellent!” Kenji declared, “You rest while we pull off the camo.”

“Thanks,” I panted.

By the time the two had managed to yank everything off of the car, my heart rate had steadied, so I took my place in the driver’s seat, while Kenji took the seat next to me. Oji sat in the back of the small sedan, most of the gear and other crap we had brought taking up the seat next to him. The distant sound of barking, shouting, and gunfire had yet to get closer or louder, so either the fire, the jerky, or more likely both, had kept the farmer and his dogs at bay long enough for us to have a chance at escaping this mess without becoming trophies.

“We are never doing that again,” I declared as I started the car.

“Come on, man,” Kenji said from the front passenger seat, “that was fuckin’ epic!”

“It was pretty sick,” Oji concurred, “until the Aussie showed up.”

“He wasn’t Australian,” I stated as I slowly eased onto the nearest road and started driving away from the farm, keeping the lights off to maintain a low profile, “if he was, we’d all be hanging upside down from a tree as a koala ate our intestines while we watched. Oh, and you two are insane!”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t enjoy that!” Kenji demanded.

I glanced at his glasses, which I could do since he had pried off the top part of the ghillie suit, “no, I did not enjoy almost being gored to death by a bull, shot in the ass by a farmer, or eaten alive by his hunting dogs. I also did not appreciate the contact high I got, nor the accessory to arson and trespassing.”

“The fire’s out, man,” Oji said, “I think.”

“That’s not the point!” I retorted as I tried to look behind us for confirmation on the state of the fire, “I nearly died four times tonight!”

Kenji sighed, “You’re right… this op was too risky, and we had no right bringing you along.”

“Although the jerky thing probably saved us,” Oji stated.

I sighed, “Someone had to.”

“We appreciate it, man,” Oji stated, “and sorry for nearly killing you. Four times.”

“Ditto,” Kenji declared, “I should know better then to put our lives on the line, but sometimes I get so excited about an op, I forget the human cost. I won’t let it happen again, man.”

“I highly doubt that,” I mumbled. Louder, I added, “still, you two had fun, we’re all alive, and no one got hurt, so I call that a win.”

“That’s the spirit!” Kenji declared, “Now, who’s up for pizza? I say we get one to take to the dorm and then empty that bottle of Nikka Taketsuru I procured.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“Same here,” Oji said, “and Kenji?”

“Yeah?” Kenji asked as we finally reached a main road, allowing me to turn on the lights as we made our way back to the University and the relative safety of urbanization.

“Make sure the next op doesn’t involve psychotic Aussie farmers.”

“Seconded,” I stated, “I’ve already had enough near death experiences to last a lifetime, and I’d rather not have any more.”

+++

University student Hisao was a little less genre savvy about tempting fate, it seems.

So, there’s that. Hmm? Oh, -dono is an extremely archaic honorific that is used mostly in the military to refer to a superior (fans of Girls Und Panzer may remember Yukari Akiyama usually referred to Miho as “Nishizumi-dono”.)

I used its more traditional meaning in the USM Valentine’s Day fic, which is to refer to the social superiority of the person being addressed, but without the deferent social inferiority of the speaker that comes with the equally archaic –sama.

The more you know. Until Halloween, then…

Sorry, I ran out of smokebombs for now. Oh wait, here’s one, /smokebomb.

read the Chinese on the back –how he claimed to be fluent in it

The Japanese are perfectly able to read[/] chinese, even if they don't speak it.*
They use the same Kanji after all.

“our objective is that sow roughly fifty yards in front of us...

Sow or cow?

the cow was looking strait at us

strait

The two quickly bolted passed me back into the woods

past

Despite the exertion, the adrenaline from fight or flight seemed to be countering my arrhythmia

"fight or"?


*"Perfectly" might be an exaggeration, but they will certainly get the gist of it.

Mirage_GSM wrote:edits

Oops, thanks for those, and for reading

What was wrong with the fight or flight?

I don't think "fight" was ever an option
Just kidding.

Mirage_GSM wrote:I don't think "fight" was ever an option
Just kidding.

Yeah, the technical term for the reflex/adrenalin rush eludes me, though in hindsight Hisao would probably know it.

Apocalypse Cow

/facepalm

“Well, you shoulda thought of that before you raised,” Kenji said as he attempted to gaze at the herd as well

This is not a period piece, I assume?

“you will live long and prosper –okay, that’s just lazy…”

Spock would not approve of his disapproval.

Crack, “sorry, I’m too hungry to read this one.”

“…Did you just eat the paper?”

“…I do feel wiser…”

This nearly made me laugh loud enough to wake my brother in the next room.

The two were roughly a hundred yards ahead of me,

Is that a perception issue, or just a mistake? 100 yards is the length of a football field, which would make calling after them somewhat difficult, and seeing them probably even harder--especially if they're in camouflage. If it's a perception thing, Hisao is recalling this after the fact, so he might quip that it felt like it was that far, rather than it actually being that distance.

as I doubt if the bull caught me he’d just lick my face and want to play catch.

This conjured a whole series of images in which Hisao frolicked in a field, tossing a football back and forth with an anthropomorphic bull, and laughing when it landed on one of its horns, deflating ever so subtly as they fell over giggling uncontrollably.

and its breathing seemed more labored then before.

And then I saw this, rather than that.

Yeah, the technical term for the reflex/adrenalin rush eludes me, though in hindsight Hisao would probably know it.

Indeed, he probably would, and you can too with five seconds and Google: hyperarousal, or the acute stress response.

Welp, if I recall correctly, you said I'm responsible for the pathos behind this deviation... for which I apologize to anyone who will listen--I really had no intention of inspiring such a hilarious, controlled-substance-charged romp. My only complaint is that there was no actual cow-tipping involved, but you made up for that with some spectacular pyrotechnics and a multiple-death-defying escape. Good show, old man!

Helbereth wrote:

“Well, you shoulda thought of that before you raised,” Kenji said as he attempted to gaze at the herd as well

This is not a period piece, I assume?

Not to my knowledge. If it were, they wouldn't have been playing poker .

The two were roughly a hundred yards ahead of me,

Is that a perception issue, or just a mistake? 100 yards is the length of a football field, which would make calling after them somewhat difficult, and seeing them probably even harder--especially if they're in camouflage. If it's a perception thing, Hisao is recalling this after the fact, so he might quip that it felt like it was that far, rather than it actually being that distance.

Good point; I meant a dozen yards, so I adjusted it to reflect that.

as I doubt if the bull caught me he’d just lick my face and want to play catch.

This conjured a whole series of images in which Hisao frolicked in a field, tossing a football back and forth with an anthropomorphic bull, and laughing when it landed on one of its horns, deflating ever so subtly as they fell over giggling uncontrollably.

and its breathing seemed more labored then before.

And then I saw this, rather than that.

Yeah, the technical term for the reflex/adrenalin rush eludes me, though in hindsight Hisao would probably know it.

Indeed, he probably would, and you can too with five seconds and Google: hyperarousal, or the acute stress response.

I apologize, though as a student of science and education, Hisao may very well revert to layman's terms when describing things, for the benefit of those around him and his slower students.

That's my defense, at least .

Welp, if I recall correctly, you said I'm responsible for the pathos behind this deviation... for which I apologize to anyone who will listen--I really had no intention of inspiring such a hilarious, controlled-substance-charged romp. My only complaint is that there was no actual cow-tipping involved, but you made up for that with some spectacular pyrotechnics and a multiple-death-defying escape. Good show, old man!

Why thank you, Good Sir! I am very glad you enjoyed it, and sorry about nearly rousing your brother; it would have been most rude of me to have caused that through my work, though I do appreciate the reaction it caused.

Being referred to as old when I'm only 24, on the other hand... Ah screw it, I already got five grey hairs, may as well go with it.

Not to my knowledge. If it were, they wouldn't have been playing poker .

Perhaps you misunderstood--there's a period missing there. Also, there was a 'then' in place of a 'than' which I pointed out, but I'm uncertain whether my wordplay made that clear.

Being referred to as old when I'm only 24, on the other hand... Ah screw it, I already got five grey hairs, may as well go with it.

It's no worse than being called old when you're only 32, really--it's only eight years difference. Around here I'm an elder statesman, though, which is a role I've accepted--though grudgingly. Besides, 'old' can also mean 'wise' or 'learned', or at least that's what I tell myself so I don't obsess about the details.

Good point; I meant a dozen yards, so I adjusted it to reflect that.

Might as well adjust it to a dozen metres while you're at it

So, we have reached another birthday. Good gum the amount of time I’ve been on this forum... Anyway, time for another special, methinks. This one’ll be a bit different from normal, but it’ll fill a few story holes (insert lewd joke here) that I’ve been circling for a while. Anyway, as a wise man once said:

“…if you stand until you can smell the garlic, and fire volley after volley, three rounds a minute - then they slow down. They stop. And then they run away. All you've got to do is stand, and fire three rounds a minute. Now, you and I know you can fire three rounds a minute. But can you stand?"

As for timeline, we’re probably a month or two after Mystery Seven, cuz of the hair.

A Misha Birthday Special: Reflections, Recollections, and Other Words that Start with “R”


Not for the first time, I find myself looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I’ve been looking in this mirror –or one just like it- at the same person for so long, I sometimes wonder if there’s any hope for me, for us. It has been over ten years, after all, and the relationship is anything but normal. On the other hand, things have changed so much over the years that, as hard as it was to believe at the time, a fresh start actually did manage to work.

Maybe I should start from the beginning. This whole mess started when I fell in love with Shizune Hakamichi, President of the Student Council, and, to me at least, the most beautiful woman on earth. Her energy, determination, and frankness were enthralling, and I never missed a chance to glance at her, to imbed her features into my mind forever. Her hair, her legs, her curves, all beautiful and alluring, but, it was her eyes that drew me in at first; their captivating gaze and childlike glint just call out to you to join her, stay with her, be with her.

So I did.

One evening, it was just the two of us, alone in the Student Council room. I was sitting on the table watching the sun set, while Shizune finished up some forms she insisted she do herself. The evening light pierced through the window and surrounded us, bathing us in its light. I stole a glance at the girl of my dreams, and at the light as it was absorbed by her dark hair, or reflected on her pale skin. I felt the sun’s warmth on my own skin, pooling within me as I gazed upon Shizune.

I lost track of how long I was staring at her, but eventually she noticed, turning toward me and saying, [I’m sorry, I’m almost done. You can go ahead if you want, you know.]

I shook my head, [I’ll wait.]

Shizune smiled, [You always do.]

I smiled and felt my face flush. The warmth from the sun, the light’s effect on her frame, and her compliment moved me forward, to make a fateful decision that only recently have I ceased to regret.

As Shizune had turned back to the paperwork, I tapped the table hard to get her attention. Feeling the vibrations in her hands, she looked back up at me and asked, [Yes?]

My hands, for the first time in a while, became tangled as I fumbled and groped for the right words to sign. The ability to think about what you say when you sign –to seriously mull it over- became a trap, and I found myself twisting my fingers together as I failed to think of anything to say to convey my feelings.

Shizune started to look concerned, so I finally managed to fumble something that resembled, , though it probably came off as incoherent gibberish.

Shizune blinked up at me from over her silver frames, her expression confused, but in a way that made me believe she had understood me. For a while she just stared at me, and I felt the apprehension and fear of rejection settle in my stomach and heart like jagged rocks.

Her response was a less then gratifying, but reasonable, [Could you repeat that?]

I nodded, inhaled and exhaled slowly to calm myself, and replied, [I love you. I love your strength, your determination, your playfulness, your gorgeous eyes, your long, soft legs, your dazzling smile. I love all of it –all of you. I want to be your girlfriend.]

Shizune blinked again. Time seemed to have frozen, to use an old cliché, and by the time she had gathered herself to respond, the sun’s rays had started to leave the room, casting a dark glow as evening turned to twilight.

[…I’m sorry, Shiina] Shizune never called me Misha when we were working, [but, I don’t feel the same way about you.]

Blunt, frank, and to the point –classic Shizune. I could describe the feeling of having your heart ripped out and torn to shreds in front of you, but we’ve all been there at some point or another, so suffice it to say I felt like shit. Understandably needing some space –namely space away from Shizune- I managed a weak nod and shuffled off the table so I could leave.

As I turned to walk out the door, Shizune got up and placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I slowly turned to face her, and with her other hand she signed, [Will you stay on the Council?]

I blinked the first tears from my eyes and shook my head, unable to sign a response as my hands had clenched into fists.

[Please stay,] Shizune signed, [I may not love you like the way you want me to, but you are my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you.]

The nerve of the woman! She just rejected me and asked me to stay by her side, so that every day the pang of rejection would dig into my heart to remind me of what I could never have. As upset as I was then, I still saw the gall in her statement, and that gave me the resolve to shove her hand off my shoulder and respond, [No. I can’t stay. I won’t stay. Get Lilly to interpret for you.]

Shizune looked stunned that I had refused her, [Please stay. I… I need you. No one understands me like you. I’ve never had a friend as close to me or who has meant as much to me before, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Please. Stay.]

The sense of being commanded like a dog came to my mind, but at the same time, so did a sense of guilt; I was her best friend- her ally on the Council, her shopping buddy, her closest companion. In a twisted way, we were already what I wanted, just not as deeply as I had desired. I wanted to shake my head and walk out of the room and never come back, but, rejection or not, I still loved her, and, if she couldn’t love me back, at least I could be there for her in another way. Her way.

[…I’ll think about it.] I finally managed to reply.

Shizune gave a somber nod and bowed lightly, [Thank you, and I am sorry.]

I nodded and turned to leave, the tears too large and many to hold back any longer.

==

So I bit the bullet and stood by her side, being the friend she needed and serving as her loyal interpreter. I questioned my decision often, but was more assured of my choice once the Council seemed doomed to just the two of us. It just being the two of us, and being Shizune’s sole pillar of support and friendship, wore on me, though, and I realized how co-dependent our relationship was. I needed space, a chance to live my own life, to move beyond the heartbreak and loss and forge my own path, as the saying goes.

Thanks to my excellent English scores, and recommendations from the sign language and homeroom teacher, I was accepted overseas to the University of California, Los Angeles. Shizune was sad to see me go, and asked if we could stay in contact. Though it meant being tied by the past, she was still a friend, and of course I’d miss her, so I agreed. Things moved along well; I loved UCLA, made great friends, but couldn’t bring myself to date. Part of it was me sorting through my thoughts and feelings, but another part, I think, thought that my closeness to Shizune had meant something more than friendship to her, and maybe, if she had time without me, she’d rethink her earlier position.

I’m not the most reasonable thinker when it comes to my emotions.

As you already know, sophomore year Shizune offered me a position with a charity foundation she was working on forming, as her interpreter/assistant/partner. Though still in college, she had the connections and financial backing to make her aspirations real, and the position along with it. The job appealed to me because it meant making a difference and, as much as it hurt, I had enjoyed being by Shizune’s side on the Council, for the most part. Part of me wanted that connection again, but part of me also realized how one-sided that relationship had been. So I told her I wanted something in return for once –I wanted to live together, to try and put our relationship on more equal footing and, if I’m honest, try and bring us closer together.

Shizune refused, on the entirely reasonable grounds that my condition was at best ridiculous and at worse mentally unstable. I overreacted, we fought, and I ended up getting drunk in a bar run by an old family friend. After my talk with Hanako and some time to recover from the hangover from hell, I knew I had to speak to Shizune and get some closure. Whether I agreed to work with her or not, I had to at least try and put my feelings to rest.

I had the time to meet her in person, so I texted her and asked if we could meet at a café somewhere. She agreed, and we met the next day shortly after lunch. Despite being a Sunday, she was dressed for work, in a black skirted suit that matched the new black framed glasses she had started wearing. Her hair was longer than it had been in high school, tied up in a short ponytail. When I saw her I couldn’t help running over and giving her a hug.

When I stepped back, she looked stunned; I guess she thought I was still mad at her. I was, of course, but I also missed her, a lot, and I felt bad for snapping at her and avoiding her texts and emails for a month.

[Hello], she said, once she had recovered.

[Hi], I replied, [it’s been a while, hasn’t it?]

Shizune nodded, but didn’t say anything else until we had ordered drinks and found seats near the back of the café.

[I’m sorry], was the first thing she said once we were seated, [I didn’t take your feelings into account when I offered you that position. Actually, I don’t think I ever took your feelings into account when we discussed or did anything.]

Shizune paused, clearly waiting for me to say something. I didn’t trust myself to, so I just nodded.

, Shizune stated, [so, I accept your condition for employment, if you’re still willing to work with me- and live with me. However, if we were to live together, I want it made known our co-habitation would be strictly platonic, regardless of how we feel about each other.]

The way she phrased the statement piqued my curiosity, so I asked, [What do you mean?]

Shizune gave a silent sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she continued, [While I don’t love you the way you want me to, I won’t deny our relationship is beyond that of normal friends. The best comparison I could surmise is the relationship between Hanako and Lilly.]

I raised an eyebrow, [So you think of me like a sister? I better stop having those fantasies and rename my vibrator, then.]

That earned me a very shocked, audible snort from Shizune. Shizune glowered for a moment and shook herself. After taking a moment to collect herself, she said, [I’d rather not hash out the specifics here, but we should when we have the chance. Again, if you still want to work and live with me, of course.]

I stared into my tea, thinking. Logically, I should have had enough sense to rescind my offer, and either work with her anyway, or just move on with my life. Seeing her admit that I meant more to her than just a friend, though, had been very gratifying, and also made me feel guilty. Not agreeing would be like abandoning her, and my family had worked very hard to instill a sense of familial loyalty, and one thing a Mikado never did was abandon family (which explained why so many of them died to blood feuds during the civil war.)

So I accepted, and once more buried my true feelings to help my friend, my… sister?