Just another one-shot compilation thread (new story 11/18)

[Scissorlips]

Arise, one-shot thread. I despise thread necromancy, but in this case, I might actually have a valid excuse.

No More Pirates (Emi)
I wanted to write a short Emi story, but it would have worked much better as a follow up. The hard part was, I had no idea what I wanted it to follow up on. After doing a little asking around, a gentleman from KSG suggested Emi and Hisao at a western themed amusement park (western as in American/European, not necessarily cowboy), and since I've actually worked at such a thing before, it sounded like it could be quite a bit of fun. I had a great time writing some (happy) Emi again, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


“Huh.” I say simply, looking at the massive sign that towers above our heads.

“Isn't it great?” The girl standing beside me grins from ear to ear, almost looking like... no, she actually is, she's bouncing up and down in excitement, her more realistic, going-out prosthetics making light clacking noises.

“So this was your big plan to end summer vacation with a bang?” I glance around. An amusement park. I've actually never been to one before, there used to be something like this in the city where I grew up, but it had been long since closed down. And abandoned. And creepy. We used to tell stories about it at school, daring eachother to sneak in and stay there overnight. I can only think of one kid who actually did it, and man, was he cool. I remember spending the rest of the school year hoping someone would dare me to do the same thing, so I could be as cool as him. But it never happened. And, uh, here I am now, standing next to an overly excited little ball of energy.

“Yeah!” Emi strides up to the entrance, looking perfectly at home. Although I guess that's normal, since this place looks the exact opposite of abandoned, it's filled with people. It's probably too late to prove my bravery now anyway.

“You've been here before, I take it?” We get into line to buy tickets, although I notice that I'm the only one with their wallet out.

Emi's smile never wavers. “I used to come here a lot.” She says, looking me straight in the eyes. “With my dad.”

She says it completely calmly, completely openly, the mention of her father not carrying a drop of pain. Is she that comfortable with me now, that she can talk about him so openly? Or does this place just have so many good memories attached to it, that even though she's always strong, bad memories can't even touch her here? I don't know. But as I stare back into those bright green eyes, I can't help but return her smile.

I have no doubt that this place holds many, many warm memories for her, and something tells me that we're about to make a good deal more. Emi turns, craning her neck to try to spot some of her favorite attractions. She must have found one that she liked, because she gets something of a wicked grin on her face as she looks back at me.

“I know where I want to go first.” She says. Emi, Emi, stop smiling like that, really.

No doubt at all, this is going to be a day to remember. I just hope I'll live to tell the tale.



“Huuuh.” I glance around the large, open building, looking at the various stalls of food on every corner. People stream around us on all sides, couples, families, the occasional lost-looking old person. Little kids who are wearing more of their ice cream instead of eating it, I shudder.

“This is where you wanted to go first?” I ask, turning to Emi. She nods, looking a little too innocent.

“I skipped breakfast this morning.” She says.

“But breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” I say blankly, reciting her words with practiced ease. Emi grins.

“That's exactly why we're going to make up for it right now.” She replies.

I take another look around the plaza. Foods of all kinds are on display here, but almost all of them seem to be of western origin. Actually, that seems like a running theme for the entire amusement park. There's a stall selling baked potatoes, another selling burgers and fries, one that specializes in... some kind of solid block of french fries, how horrifying.

“I don't think any of the food here looks very healthy.” I turn back to Emi, but she's gone.

“Did you say something, Hisao?” I hear her calling me from one of the lines. Somehow, she's already at the front, and a moment later she walks over, carrying some sort of bun with a thick wad of saucy meat wedged in the middle. It doesn't look healthy at all.

“What. Is that?” I eye the item that she's carrying in a little paper boat with suspicion. Emi squirms only the tiniest bit, the only indication that she feels guilty about eating something like this.

“It's a sloppy joe.” She says, looking up at me. “Want some?”

“It certainly looks sloppy.” Is that--it is, the juice is bleeding into the bun. “Who's joe?”

“I dunno.” Emi takes a big bite of her sandwich, if you could call it that, before smiling mischievously. “Mayfbe I coulf be yourf joe toniff.” She says in between chews. I can't watch this any longer.

“If you're breaking the rules, maybe I will too.” I say, marching towards a stall selling cotton candy. Behind me, Emi lets out an indignant gasp.

“Hisao Nakai, you can't eat cotton candy for breakfast!” She says. I hear her bite into her sloppy thing again.

“Call the cops, see if I care.” I say with a grin. I turn back to the lethargic looking youth standing behind the counter. It turns out, they also sell lemonade at this stall. And I am kind of thirsty, hmm.

“Is your lemonade freshly squeezed?” I ask, even though I feel kind of like a jerk for being picky.

The employee scowls at me. “Dude, I have never seen a lemon in my life.”

“Count yourself lu--wait.” I know that voice. “Kenji?”

The boy on the other end of the counter raises the baseball cap that had previously been pulled low over his face, and I see the familiar, bottle-thick glasses and mop of black hair. I can't help but wonder just how much of anything he's seen in his life with eyes like that.

“Oh hey dude.” Kenji says, suddenly chipper. “You caught me with my pants down.”

Technically, I can't see his pants from this side of the counter, but I'm really not interested in finding out if he's speaking figuratively or not.

“Right. So what are you doing here?” I glance back at Emi, who's peeking at one of the ice cream stands, biting her lip. Maybe I should keep this conversation short, for all our sakes.

I look back at Kenji, who's peering around the plaza suspiciously. “My mother got me this job to make a little extra cash over summer break. You know, replenish my stocks, help me shore up my defenses a bit. Just don't give away my secret identity, okay man? I'm exposed enough here as it is.”

I really doubt he's in any danger, and if he is, I'm sure my wallet is is more trouble. Emi is walking this way, stars in her eyes.

“Sure, sure.” I say to Kenji. “But some cotton candy might help buy my silence.”

“Yeah, whatever, that's fine.” Kenji reaches for a stick, accepting the coins I offer in exchange like this is some sort of black market deal. “You don't want the lemonade anyway, they make it with powder and a hose in the back.”

“You're kidding.” I hand the cotton candy somewhere behind me, where it immediately disappears from my grip, replaced by the sound of Emi munching right away.

Kenji shrugs. “Naw, dude. Western style, or something.”

It's just as well, I can't say I care much for lemon-flavored anything these days. I bid Kenji farewell before trying to salvage the scraps of my cotton candy that Emi will permit me to have. Now that she's stocked up on sugar--and making a vague promise to burn it all off later, with my help--it's off to the rides.



“Prepare to die!” Emi shouts, charging towards me with her bumper boat at full speed. I'm trying to move to avoid her, but I think my engine just died, I swear she's cheating somehow. With a thud, her boat crashes into mine, this day will live in infamy.

“I caught you.” The little girl behind the wheel declares triumphantly. She reverses for a moment and then bumps into me again for emphasis. “Give me all your treasure.”

“I don't have any treasure.” I grumble. I grip the small water cannon mounted on the front of my boat, turning it towards her. “But I do have something for you.”

With a playful shriek, Emi tries to swerve to avoid the oncoming jet of water, but for once, she's too slow. Luckily for her it's a warm day out, unluckily for me, the green camisole that she wears over her white shirt foils any chance at riches that I might get. For now, at least. Oblivious to our drama on the high seas, small children putter around us in the small, circular pool of the bumper boats ride. We're, uh, the oldest people here, some of the parents standing nearby are looking at us with disapproval. But maybe we'll make them walk the plank.

“I'll get you for this.” Emi reverses her craft, letting out a yelp as she backs into one of the other players.

Our game intensifies, the dull, flat sounds of our engines masking the true depth of strategy and tenacity that the two of us employ. She tries to ram me at full throttle again but I avoid her, she bumps into the wall. An ill-timed blast of water from my boat misses her entirely, instead soaking an innocent twelve year old who was driving in circles behind her. The next moment, I'm wondering just how many friends a twelve year old can have, as I'm dodging water blasts from what appears to be every other boat here. Emi is leading the charge, one first raised in the air as if it were a red flag, or one with a skull and crossbones on it.

“Charge!” She shouts, and a formation of boats descends on me. How the hell can a bunch of kids be so organized? I'm twisting and bucking with all my might but I think my engine is giving out again, got to... got to... there. I manage to avoid their pincer move, or whatever impromptu strategy that grade schoolers are capable of pulling off, but just as I reach safety, I turn my head to see Emi's boat bearing down on me. She's leaning over the front, eyes narrowed in determination and wearing a bright grin, as if her victory is already decided.

“Hisaaoooo!” She shouts. She's getting a little too into this, I think. Just as she begins to get close though, her engine dies, and so does mine. The dull murmurs of protest from the other players tell me that our time on this game is over. Emi's boat slows to a dead stop right in front of mine, and she glowers, putting on her best pouty expression.

“Looks like we'll have to call it a draw.” I say with a shrug. Emi blinks at me for a moment. And then reaches for the water cannon on the front of her boat.

Oh there's no way that it still has poweblgblghlgbhghbg. The next thing I know, I'm wet, and an amusement park employee who looks like he wishes he had stayed in school is pushing our boats to the edge of the pool so we can get out.

“I don't do draws.” Emi grins as we step out and onto dry land. I don't think I'll ever get my sea legs like this.

“So I noticed. Now I'm wet.” I'm dripping all over the place, you'd think a ride like this would come with a complimentary towel or something.

“How do you think I feel?” She retorts. “An eye for an eye!” Oh yeah, I guess she's pretty wet too. I was actually planning on using her to help dry myself off, but... you know what, I'll do it anyway.

“An eye for an eye, huh?” I take a step forward and Emi peers up at me as if she could read my mind. “Got anything else to trade?”

“Pirates don't trade.” She replies, quickly raising herself up to plant a kiss on my lips. With all the little kids around, even she must have some shame though, because she withdraws a moment later, blushing slightly.

“They take.” She says, flashing me another bright grin, before skipping off towards another ride.

“Come on!” She calls back to me. “I bet I'll dry off before you do!”

“That's not fair, you got hosed first!” I move to catch up with her. Emi giggles, maybe I'll buy a bottle of water to even the odds.



“Miss!” The game attendant says with a shrug. Who knew it was so hard to land a ring around a stupid bottle? It doesn't look hard at all. I feel deflated already, but I still have a couple more throws. Next to me, Emi's lips are pursed in anticipation, she dragged me over here as soon as she saw the massive stuffed animals that were hanging on the roof of the game as prizes. I almost don't know if I want to win, I'm sure that if I do, Emi will stick me with the job of carrying them and--

“Miss!” The employee makes the smallest effort to look apologetic that I've ever seen, before immediately pulling out his cell phone and tapping away as if we didn't exist anymore. Next to me, Emi scowls.

She shoots me a half annoyed, half playful look. “Do you even throw?” She asks, before walking up to the attendant.

“One more game.” She says, handing him a couple coins. Funny thing, my wallet feels a little bit lighter.

For all her big talk, Emi has almost as much difficulty landing one of the rings as I do. Almost. She manages to score just enough to win one of the “jumbo” prizes, a word that I'm sure would make our English teacher cringe. The attendant unhooks the gigantic stuffed animal, a fuzzy lion that's probably the mascot for a cable company or something, and offers it to Emi with one hand. He's still holding his phone in the other, I think that probably means he's been working here too long.

Emi accepts the prize gleefully, hugging it tightly. It's so big that it almost dwarfs her small, toned frame, and we only get a few steps before she has to force it on me. To be honest, she would probably be fine, if its weight caused her to keel over, I'm sure it would do a good job of absorbing the impact. But she doesn't seem to want to take the risk, as happy as she is that she won it. As I struggle to look around the stuffed animal in my arms, all I can think is that I should have seen this coming. Oh wait, I did.



It turns out that carrying around such a sizable prize can be a pain, so we make a trip back to the huge building filled with food stalls. I try to make our visit short but Kenji refuses to store our lion behind the counter until I confess that there's actually secret intelligence reports smuggled inside. Then he stands at attention and fires a crisp salute, a job well done soldier and all that. By the time I manage to peel away from him, Emi is walking back to me holding some sort of sugar-coated, bread-like... thing.

“What is. That.” I squint at the object in her hands. The whole thing is covered with a light dusting of sugar, and half of it contains a glob of what looks like jam, while the other half is lightly smeared with butter. I can feel my body begin moving stuff around to prepare for the inches on my waistline that I'll be adding on shortly.

Emi takes a bite of the thing before answering. “Iff an elephanf earf.” She says, chewing a little too gleefully.

“Is that legal? I thought you weren't allowed to shoot elephants.” I raise an eyebrow, and Emi shrugs.

“It's okay if they're made out of bread, I guess.” She says after swallowing. She offers it to me and I accept, careful not to actually touch the greasy surface.

“This is bread?” I ask, inspecting it closely. Emi looks thoughtful.

“I think so. Just try it!” She replies, and so I do.

Not bad. Sorry, elephant.



“Hey Hisao.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

We continue to ride the Ferris wheel in silence for a little while longer. The sight of the theme park below us, now a little too far away for comfort, makes me wonder if I would have had trouble doing something like this before I had met the girl sitting next to me. I have no doubt that my heart is a lot stronger now than it was when I first arrived, but even then, roller coasters or anything like that are a bad idea. Still, it's not like there aren't plenty of fun things for a captain and her first mate--she insists that we're still equals, even though I don't think that's the definition of a first mate--to do. In fact, there might be a little bit too much to do.

“Hey Hisao.”

“Nope.”

“Aww.”

We continue to climb higher and higher, I don't think I want to look over the side anymore. Instead, I turn to peer at the girl sitting next to me, who stares back with sparkling eyes.

The ride grinds to a halt just as we reach the top, I groan inwardly. Emi doesn't even try to contain the grin that spread across her face.

“Heeeyy Hisao.” She says, narrowing her eyes. I stare back at her for a few moments.

“Fine.”



By the time we get off the Ferris wheel, at least I know for sure that our bet is back on equal grounds, our clothes are both at about the equal level of dampness now. Emi manages to get a leg up on me--er, that is, she pulls ahead of me by standing directly in the sun as I take a stab at another one of the games. This time, it involves selecting the correctly labeled duck out of a pool of lookalikes.

“It's that one. That one!” Emi points, but all I see is too many damn ducks.

“How about you come over here and help me?” I look back at her, frowning. She shrugs.

“You don't need my help. I believe in you.” She replies, turning so that her back can absorb more sun. I sigh, something tells me I'm not going to win this bet anyway, I might as well focus on winning this game.

Let's see, ducks, ducks, ducks. Damn, I don't have any clue which is the right one. Screw it. I pick one up at random, and it's no surprise when the bottom declares that I'm not a winner, but I should definitely try again. Yeah, about that.

I set the duck back down, turning to find Emi standing right behind me. She looks pretty dry. I glance down at my own clothes, I am, um, not pretty dry.

I gesture over my shoulder towards the game. “I lost.”

Emi doesn't look disappointed in the slightest. “That's okay.” She says, looking up at me. “I won.”

“Now hold on, I didn't agree to--” But she takes me by the hand and begins pulling me away.

“Implied consent, come on!”

“I don't think that means what you think it means!”



“...Huh.” At least this time, we aren't the oldest people in line. There are plenty of others our age, the vast majority of them being couples, which I guess would make sense.

“Tunnel Of Love”, the sign reads. As I watch, a small raft disappears into the opening, vanishing from sight and headed into the unknown.

No, I definitely did not agree to this. I turn to Emi, who stands in line next to me, fidgeting a bit.

“This is what you wanted for winning our bet?” I ask.

She smiles, but a little nervously. “Well, I've never been on it before, and I always... wanted to try, so.”

I nod. “It looks like a dangerous voyage.” I take another look at the other people in line with us. Most of them are either already hugging or doing similar, sappy things, and I think I even recognize a few familiar faces. I'm pretty sure that's Molly and Takashi, a little bit ahead of us. And behind us... is that Taro and Ikuno? Huh, they make a cute couple, I guess.

The line moves up, and we shuffle a little bit forward. What is this tension? Why do I feel like I'm about to walk the plank or something? The little, log-shaped boat that the ridegoers sit in is even surrounded by water, is it infested with sharks?

“I don't know about this.” I say as we take a few more steps forward. Emi glances up at me, blushing and looking a little awkward. Again, I'm grateful that my heart has come a long way since we first met, because I don't think I would have been able to stand such a sight back then.

“C'moon, Hisao.” She says, placing her hands behind her back. On something of a... thicker... girl, this might have the effect of pushing her chest forward, but no such luck with Emi. Maybe if she keeps eating like she has been today, but I doubt that will happen.

She must realize that her feminine wiles aren't quite working right now, because she shifts into her puppy eyes, damn, not the puppy eyes.

“You wouldn't follow your fearless captain on a voyage through the tunnel of love?” She asks, tilting her head to one side as she peers up at me. Uurgh.

“Do you have any idea what actually goes on during this thing?” I ask. I thought rides like this were a joke, or some sort of thing of the past, but apparently not. We move a little further up the line.

“No idea!” She says, grinning. “That's why it's exciting. It's an adventure.”

“An adventure, huh.”

“Yeah!” She continues to look up at me, but lets her charm drop. Emi stares straight into my eyes, with no tricks, no ploys. She just looks at me, straight and honest, like she did when we arrived, when she mentioned her father.

I love this girl when she's playful, I love it when she's teasing me or motivating me, or doing just about anything else. But somehow, seeing her like this, just being straight, just being real. It's moments like this that I realize just how truly lucky I am to have met Emi, and that she let me get this close to her. I don't think I've ever met someone as strong as Emi, and I'm not sure I'll meet someone like her ever again. One is all can handle, one is all I need. One is all I am way, way too lucky to have managed to get.

“Come on.” She says again, smiling softly. I look into those bright green eyes, and even though this is just some stupid attraction at an amusement park, I can't help but feel like it's something more. I don't know, maybe it's all that unhealthy food going to my head. But maybe this ride will be a chance to burn some of those calories, or something, who knows.

Fine then, little girl. I'll go on an adventure with you. I'll go wherever you lead me, even if it's... the tunnel of love.

I suddenly realize that we're at the front of the line. The attendant calls for us to step forward and into the little boat that sits waiting. Beside me, Emi grins nervously, her face a little red.

“Lead the way, captain.” I say, gesturing for her to step forward. Emi laughs.

“Not without my first mate.” She says, reaching to take my hand in hers.




“No More Pirates” is a song by Chris Garneau.

[griffon8]

“Oh hey dude.” Kenji says, suddenly chipper. “You caught me with my pants down.”

Technically, I can't see his pants from this side of the counter, but I'm really not interested in finding out if he's speaking figuratively or not.

Too funny.

And 'each other' is still two words, not one.

Very nice, very cute, got some good funny stuff.

*Crosses off 'go to an amusement park' for planned Emi continuation fic*

No, I wasn't actually planning to write them going to an amusement park.

[Scissorlips]

Too funny.

And 'each other' is still two words, not one.

Very nice, very cute, got some good funny stuff.

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Emi is a lot of fun to write for, and it's probably been too long since I've given it a try. And also, I know that "each other" is two words, but it just looks wrong to me, I'm not gonna write it that way. Forgive my one act of selfish rebellion, haha.

[Scissorlips]

Grey Room (Rin)
Still on "vacation", I've actually had this one done for a little bit but don't like bumping the thread all the time. Not expecting a huge response from this. Just another small idea that I had been wanting to do for a while, once the right mood and timing hit me. Rin isn't my specialty, but I hope it turned out all right. Partially inspired by this picture.


“Hey Nakai, you coming?” Someone yells. I look up from my book, a group of my dorm mates are headed out, probably to another night at the bars around town.

“Nah, I'll take a raincheck.” I reply, glancing at the clock. “Besides, I'm expecting a call.”

The one nearest to me grins. “The girlfriend, huh?”

“The ball and chain.” I reply, but I smile to let them know I'm joking. “Good luck.”

“Man, where we're going, we don't need luck.” They turn to leave, and soon I'm alone in the common room. Just me, my book, the ticking of the clock on the wall. And the thoughts that are now bouncing around my head. Thoughts of my life here at university. Thoughts of Rin.

It hasn't been easy, going to separate schools. Who would have thought that colleges with both a good arts program and a good science one were hard to find? But we had made it work. It's working. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it is.

I guess I don't know. And that bothers me. It's hard to find enough time to make a trip over to visit Rin, and she's not really the type to come visit me. Ha, I wouldn't mind seeing her try to insert her ticket at the train station with her mouth. But, only if I was there to see it, if that makes sense. It's not that Rin is weak, it's not that she's stupid, either. I just don't want her to put herself in any kind of danger just to see me.

So that leaves me here, now stewing in my thoughts, sitting in this worn out chair. She's going to call tonight, though, we have that planned. I could call her, but there's no guarantee that she would be in any position to answer. So instead, we talk on her terms. Is it enough? Often enough, long enough? Damn it. I don't know.

I can only imagine what life is like for her, at her art school in Tokyo. When I've visited she seems pretty happy, and when we talk she sounds fine. But this isn't like back at Yamaku, when we were just a dorm building apart, when we saw eachother every day. This is hard. With all the distance between us, it's hard to know, it's hard to be sure. About a lot of things.

Is she just putting on a happy front? Are things still all right between us? Does she miss me, too?

Feeling lousy, I pull out my phone and flip it open, staring at the background. One of her paintings that she'd done before we graduated. Nomiya said it was probably worth a lot, but she gave it to me, it's in my room. I still don't know what the hell it means. But she made it, for me, for us. Rin.

Rin, I miss you. I need to hear your voice, that deadpan tone, those words that I've been having to try less and less to understand over the time we've been together. Are we really on the same page? I don't know, I think I would probably start getting concerned talks from my friends and classmates if I always acted like I was. But we're getting there, we're getting there, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. Except, maybe, for her to call me right n--

Well that's convenient. My phone starts ringing, I immediately press the button to accept and raise it to my ear.

“Hello.” I can't think of anything else to say. There's a silence for a moment, I can hear the faint hiss of static.

“Hello.” A familiar voice replies.

“Hello, Rin.”

We launch into our--her, really--version of small talk. We cover all the basics as best as we can, what's new, what's old. She says she's heard from Emi, she's doing well. Her art professors are pleased with her progress, I told her that I almost blew something up in lab class the other day. She asks if I could blow something down if I wanted, and I reply that maybe that could be extra credit.

“Can I see you?” I decide to break away from talk that doesn't matter to me as much right now.

From the other end of the phone, Rin pauses. She could be lying on her side, her ear pressed to the receiver, or some other method of holding it. I don't think she's quite flexible enough to do it with her feet. Either way, she says nothing for a few long moments.

“No.” She replies at last. “Phones do not work that way.”

“I mean, can I come visit?”

“Can you?”

“I can, yeah. If you want me to. If you'll have time for me.”

“Time is a concept.” She replies. “I don't know how to make it because it doesn't exist.”

“When did that ever stop you before?” I try to joke, but the line goes dead for almost a minute straight. Maybe she's thinking about it too hard.

“Rin.”

“I'm still here.” She says softly.

“So you are. And I want to see you. Because I miss you.”

Another pause. Come on, Rin. Come on, come on, say it, I need to hear you say it. I know you're not that strange, I know you're not that alien, you can--

“I miss you too.” She says at last.

I close my eyes at her words. There. There. That wasn't so hard, was it? I needed to know that. That was all I wanted. Well, that and to see her.

“This weekend. Can I come over?”

“Yes.”


I can't manage to relax at all during the train ride over. I had to cancel and agree to make up a bunch of things just to get the time to do this, it's been too long since I've seen her. It's been too long, what if I get there and she's changed? What if her school has been putting her under a lot of pressure, what if it's her art exhibition all over again, but this time she doesn't have me to help her pick up the pieces?

Does she even need me? Am I being stupid, am I not trusting her enough? No, no, I put my thoughts aside. There's nothing I can do about it until I get there, until I see her. I can't know anything for sure.

I wish this train would go faster.


Students buzz around me on all sides, fashionably dressed and chatting. This university is about the same size as mine, but the layout is completely different and it's much more urban. I've been here a bunch of times before with Rin, but I never bothered to memorize the grounds. I didn't care about them, all I cared about was her.

Rin. We hadn't agreed on a meeting place, I guess I was just going to find her here. But as I look around, none of the faces are familiar, I don't see any mops of short, auburn hair, or vacant sleeves, tied off at the ends. My gut begins to clench as I start to think about all the things I'll need to make up back at my own school, just so I could afford to come here and screw this up.

“Are you looking for someone?” A voice asks from behind me.

“Yeah, I--” I turn around. Standing there is Rin, none other. She's wearing a thick coat, and the biggest grin I think I've ever seen her make.

I can't even manage a response, I just stand there staring in almost shock at the look on her face. I've probably seen her smile like this, this wide, this bright, her entire face shining with happiness, maybe a handful of times before. Maybe less.

I was an idiot. I've been an idiot. And I'm sorry.

Before I say anything else, I step forward and wrap my arms around her, pulling her close to me. Rin stares up at me with bright curiosity, her grin fading only the tiniest bit into a warm smile.

“You're hugging me, Hisao.” She says, inspecting me with those green eyes that seem to go on for miles in their depth.

“Yeah.” I manage to reply, feeling myself returning her smile. “So I am.”


Later that evening, we're sitting on the floor of her study. Blotches of paint are everywhere, even on the ceiling, and paintings, some almost finished, some little more than a single stroke, are littered all around. But the most important thing is that Rin sits in my lap, facing me, her head resting against my chest and her legs curled around my back. We sit there in absolute silence, no need to say anything. We just want to be here, we just want to know. To know that we're here for eachother. To know that we still mean a lot, maybe everything, to eachother.

I lay my head on hers, and I know that she's still here for me. And I'm still here for her, and I'm going to be, for as long as I can imagine, for as long as I can stand on my own two feet, and when I can't stand anymore, I'll crawl to her side.

I've still got her. She's still got me. Time hasn't changed that, maybe nothing can change that. I hope so, anyway.

The room we're in is cold and the night outside beyond the window is cold too, but all we need is eachother to stay so warm.






“Grey Room” is a song by Damien Rice.

[ProfAllister]

A sweet story. Kind of think Hisao should have said "Do you want me to come over?" to earn a definite answer from Rin, but that's a minor detail.

I somewhat feel that people overthink Rin. They try too hard. However, I think your lines captured her relatively well. More importantly, you certainly captured Rin's Hisao, neuroticism and all.

[Brogurt]

Can't say I know any better place to put this post, since it sure as hell doesn't deserve its own topic, and the most relevant offense is in this thread somewhere.

This is a public public, i.e., meant towards anyone and everyone who it may concern; not just towards Scissorlips, which is why I opted not to use a PM apology for my past behavior regarding the reception of fanfiction on this forum and in similar KS-related communities.

The most notable instance of which has included me calling the state of Scissorlips's writing-posting/reading-commenting process a circlejerk.

When someone sees others receiving mountains of praise and adoration for contributions that he does not see as anything special compared to his own, it's easy to get frustrated. And when he sees the notoriety attached to the names receiving that praise, it's similarly easy to believe that this "internet fame" is the main contributor to that reaction. And when the big names cultivate their own little circle of the "haves" versus writers such as myself, who become "have-nots", it just reinforces that mindset. No, it's not the best reasoning at the moment, since I haven't written anything lately, but I'd like to assert that this has been going on for a while.

But you may not fall into that line of thought. "Be happy for others," you may say. To that, I'd say that I'd like to be happier, more pleasant, more open to the concept of "let the joy of others make you happy as well," but it's not something that finds its way into my conscience easily. Now, I could bore you all to death with the soliloquy of what's wrong with me and why I am this way (at least, as far as I know), but that's not the point, and this is not meant to be a pity party. The point is this: None of you are at fault. I am at fault.

Maybe it's because of matters that are beyond my control. Maybe I can't change who I am. Maybe it's entirely my choice to click that button at the bottom that says submit. Maybe I, like my fathers and brothers, can be recognizable as a nice person if I only tried to make that a more evident quality in myself. But I don't expect you all to care any more than I expect the person on the receiving end of a broadsword to care why the other guy is swinging it. Because, as you may have guessed, I have been the one swinging it.

But that analogy only holds true at the time of swinging the sword, I believe. If there is any hope of reconciling, then maybe the victim would like to know why the attacker was hostile? Well, that's why I wrote that fourth paragraph. Maybe it might give some of you some insight into how I felt at the time (and still do occasionally feel). Maybe I could gain your understanding instead of your disdain. Or at least both.

So, the main event, and probably the sentence that will keep user from being banned for this post: I was wrong to have cried circlejerk with the same breath that I used to speak of fanfiction here on the forums. If I'm capable of learning, then I shall hold my tongue, and instead read farther before deciding that something is shit that deserves no praise.

I'd like to keep this as drama-free as possible, so if any bystanders would be so kind as to take note of the message and move on without commentary, then it would be appreciated. I don't want to anger the forum gods with drama and bullshit, and keeping this bump-free would probably be the path of least resistance.

[Trivun]

Well, I've been keeping up with this set of one-shots for a few days, reading every post and every story, and everything I've read has been pretty damn awesome . I have no shame in saying that in the first of those three Hanako stories, I was on the verge of manly tears. Scissorlips, you've achieved something through that story that very few pieces of media have done for me in the past, so congratulations on some well written work .

I also just wanted to point out my thoughts on Brogurt's last post, specifically, that I'm pleased that someone on the internet (as this is pretty rare at least in the communities I frequent) realised that they screwed up and had the decency to make an apology. I will admit, that I've often felt the same way that Brogurt says he did regarding my own work - I have a fanfiction posted here myself, retelling Hanako's arc from her own point of view, and it's recieved maybe two people commenting (the bulk of posts being my updates), but I'm fine with that, as long as I know that people are reading and enjoying it somewhere. Most of the views and comments come on Fanfiction.net instead, and as people seem to enjoy my work, I'm happy . But as I say, it's not often I see someone who has hurt or simply annoyed other people on the internet realise that they're in the wrong and make a proper apology like that, so kudos to Brogurt for that.

Overall, I'm loving the work I see on this forum, I love the visual novel and the work the developers put into it to create something so great, and I'm loving the community (however small and potentially closed-off it may be) of Katawa Shoujo. I look forward to the rest of my hopefully lengthy time here

[Scissorlips]

Well, I've been keeping up with this set of one-shots for a few days, reading every post and every story, and everything I've read has been pretty damn awesome . I have no shame in saying that in the first of those three Hanako stories, I was on the verge of manly tears. Scissorlips, you've achieved something through that story that very few pieces of media have done for me in the past, so congratulations on some well written work .

I also just wanted to point out my thoughts on Brogurt's last post, specifically, that I'm pleased that someone on the internet (as this is pretty rare at least in the communities I frequent) realised that they screwed up and had the decency to make an apology. I will admit, that I've often felt the same way that Brogurt says he did regarding my own work - I have a fanfiction posted here myself, retelling Hanako's arc from her own point of view, and it's recieved maybe two people commenting (the bulk of posts being my updates), but I'm fine with that, as long as I know that people are reading and enjoying it somewhere. Most of the views and comments come on Fanfiction.net instead, and as people seem to enjoy my work, I'm happy . But as I say, it's not often I see someone who has hurt or simply annoyed other people on the internet realise that they're in the wrong and make a proper apology like that, so kudos to Brogurt for that.

Overall, I'm loving the work I see on this forum, I love the visual novel and the work the developers put into it to create something so great, and I'm loving the community (however small and potentially closed-off it may be) of Katawa Shoujo. I look forward to the rest of my hopefully lengthy time here

Thank you very much. I still have ideas for a bunch of smaller stories, it's just hard to find the time to sit down and write them these days. I'm glad that you're enjoying the community here, it really has been a privilege to read and contribute to over the time.

[Scissorlips]

What You've Done
Crap, I almost forgot I actually had something to throw in here. There wasn't any particular motivation for this piece aside that it's a good song and I felt like writing. Normally I tag these stories with the name of the character involved, but in this case it would kind of spoil things. If you're not interested in Shizune though, you might just want to pass this one by.


He's angry. Of course he is, he's angry a lot. There are so many things to be upset about, these days.

The company is going through a rough patch, the economy is still sagging. For the first time in ten years, he's had to cut corners, to scrimp and save. And that's scary. That's frightening. It hurts his pride, it makes him look like a man that can't provide for his family. It makes him look weak, like a failure.

He screams and shouts, but she doesn't back down one inch, she's right there with him. Because she's angry too.

And he knows she has every right to be.

Finally, their fury ends, their rage boils down to something quiet. He broods, she simmers. And both of them hurt.

He turns to stare out the window, it's beginning to snow, winter has come.

“When?”

She stares at his back, hands trembling at her sides. One is a fist but it shouldn't be, it should be holding his hand, and she wants to. She doesn't want to be fighting and shouting, she wants to be breaking down. But she can't do that, she can't afford to do that, not after this. Not like this.

“Yesterday.”

He doesn't respond. The grounds are so beautiful, when they're covered in soft white snow. It's one of the things he loves the most about living here. In the strained silence, he thinks back to the other things he loves. The things that matter the most to him.

It's funny, how you forget about those sometimes.

“And you didn't say anyth--”

“How was I supposed to say anything when you didn't come home from the bar until 3 in the morning?” She cries, why won't he turn around? Why won't he look at her?

She wants him to turn around, in her mind she pleads for him to just sit down so they can talk, so they can figure out how many pieces of their lives they still have, and how to put them back together.

But he doesn't, he can't. He's closed up, and she's not even that hurt. Of course she hurts, it tears her apart inside, but more than anything she's scared. The letter that she holds in her other hand scares her more than anything else in the world. More than anything has in her entire life, and much more than the fact that he's been unfaithful.

She came here to show it to him, not to scream at him. Because there are more important things than the two of them, there are things that matter more than some back alley tryst, two weeks ago.

Please, she begs in silence. Please, just turn around and see my face.

“I didn't know her.” He says, still staring out the window.

“I don't care.”

“I don't even know her name.”

“Do you think that makes me--”

“No.” He growls, grimacing at the window. No, he didn't mean it like that. His left hand is opening and closing on reflex, searching for something to occupy it. Usually, he has her hand for that.

Will he still have it, after today? Will he still have her?

The snow keeps falling.

“That's not what I meant.” He sounds weak. He looks weak, struggling like this, and that makes him upset. But this is what a man does, he owes up to his mistakes. A man doesn't take the easy way out, he doesn't run away from the things he's done.

He was weak before, that night at the bar. He gave in to pressures and desires and fears, and--he glares, both hands balling into fists--and now he'll answer for that.

With one final deep breath, he whirls around, ready to face her anger, ready to face her judgment. Because it was his mistake, his weakness that--

Why isn't she glaring?

Why is--

Why is she crying?

And she's holding something too, why didn't he notice before? It looks like a letter, an envelope of some kind. Has she had it this whole time?

He opens his mouth to speak but a door opens on the other side of the room. The woman spins around, wiping her eyes. A little girl stands there, saying nothing, just watching them with an intense, curious gaze.

The man's jaw clenches, but his wife breaks into a smile that's nowhere near convincing. She sets the letter down on the desk before her hands spring into motion.

[Shizune, dear, what is it? Are you cold?]

The girl nods, still watching them. She has to squint to read her mother's signing though, she'll probably need glasses soon, but she's so young. The woman steps towards her.

[Come with me, we'll turn the heat up and find you a sweater. We can check on your brother too, while we're at it.]

She reaches for her daughter's hand and the little girl accepts, glancing back at the man next to the window one more time before she disappears from view.

Her mother returns several minutes later to find the letter sitting on the desk, next to a bottle of scotch. Both have been opened. His hands are shaking now but he hasn't had a single drink, he doesn't want the bottle to hold, it's cold, it's just so cold.

The heat is on, now, the house is beginning to warm up. But he's shivering, he's not angry anymore. He's scared. Getting angry can't fix what's in that letter, getting angry can't fix--

She takes quick, confident strides towards him, first things first. No one could be married to Jigoro Hakamichi and lack the nerve to do what needs to be done. When she reaches him, she pulls one hand back, the quiet rush of the heater is joined by the slap of skin on skin.

His face hurts, but he's not angry anymore. And neither is she. Her hand hurts, and that letter, that letter says...

His hands are cold, even as he holds her in his arms. She's crying now, she's not angry, even though she should be. She's hurt, but more than anything else, she's scared, and so is he. For her, for himself, for their children.

“Mayoi...” he breathes, unable to think, unable to do anything else. He feels weak and helpless again, but he can't find the tiniest spark of rage. There's just this chilling dread, there's just his wife, sobbing into his chest.

“Shh.” She pleads. Words won't do anything for either of them, now.

Outside, the snowflakes continue tumbling down to join the earth.



Maywho?
“What You've Done” is a song by NumberNin6, based off “I Don't Feel It Anymore” by William Fitzsimmon.

[Scissorlips]

Men of Snow (Misha)
This is a piece that I've had laying around since somewhere around February, but finally decided to go back and revisit now. It was fun to look back at how my writing has changed and streamline some things that looked clunky, at least to me.


I thought we'd have more time. I mean, I guess it always goes like that. But I really mean it. The three of us managed to survive graduation, and, knowing this day would come, we spent most of our days together after that. But the school year is different overseas than in Japan, and before we even knew it, we were here.

I'm here.

Now I'm standing at the airport, and there's no more time. The early morning light filters through the windows, it clings to me gently as quotes and speeches and words of wisdom run through my head. I would seize every second if I could, I would grip them tightly and slow down the clock, just to delay the inevitable. Just to stay here a little longer.

Would I go at all? Would I get on the plane, if I had a choice anymore?

Do I have a choice, anymore?

“You're sure you packed everything you need?” Hisao's voice breaks through my thoughts, dragging me back to the reality at the speed of light.

“Of course Hicchan~! This was nothing compared to my room at Yamaku.” It takes a moment to put myself back together, but I stick my tongue out at the messy-haired boy standing a few feet away, shoulder to shoulder with another girl. My best friend, my everything, once. Even if it wasn't mutual.

I haven't spent very much time at airports. They're something that I would like, in theory. Every one is a gateway to strange, exciting places, filled with people either headed towards an adventure or finally coming home. The kiosks and shops boast flashy souvenirs and momentos of Japanese life, delicious foods from here and across the world are just waiting to offer a glimpse of things to come. All in all, airports aren't that bad, or so I thought.

But as I stand here with the two people in the whole world who mean the most to me, waiting for my flight to America to begin boarding, all I can think about is how airports are for goodbyes.

I guess I'm lucky, I haven't had to say too many of those in my life. But everyone's luck runs out eventually.

People everywhere rush around in all directions, but the three of us stand together, an island in ourselves. Tinny announcements about flight schedules and blurbs about airport safety come over the speaker system, but I can't bring myself to listen even if I could or should, my mind is elsewhere.



It's hard to describe, really. The urge to cry is there, it's waiting somewhere, in the distance. But I can't manage it. I just sit there, in the restroom of the Shanghai, my eyes locked on the one, solitary window and the blue sky beyond.

I breathe in, sharp and heavy, trying to steady myself, trying to regain my composure. Trying everything to will away this pain inside me. But I can't. It won't go down, it won't go down.

I thought I was over this. I thought I had this feeling squared away, wrapped up with a neat little bow and stored under the floorboards somewhere, but I was wrong. It's like a closet filled to the brim that spews out in an avalanche, and even though I wasn't the one who opened it, I'm the one getting buried.

I let out a weary sigh. And here I... I didn't think anything could hurt as much as graduation.

It's been a few days since the ceremony, the now retired Student Council has made one more trip to the Shanghai. Part of me wants to stay here, stay out of sight for as long as I can, because I don't want to be out there. I'm not sure if I can take it. I know that the me from a few months ago wouldn't have been able to. She'd be crying.

Don't cry, me. Come on.

There's a knock on the door but I don't respond, I'm too busy shoving everything back down inside myself, bolting it up tight. A few moments pass and the door opens, slowly, carefully. Shizune appears, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes.

[Shicchan, I could have been...] I let my hands drift, the equivalent of trailing off. I don't think my face is damp, I don't think it is, but I don't want to lie, so I try some halfhearted deflection.

[If you were, you would have locked the door. What's wrong?]

Well, I didn't want to lie.

[Nothing's wrong, Shicchan.] I force a smile. It should be so easy, after all, it usually is. But somehow it's not. [I just needed to wash up.]

She's not buying it, but the clear solution to the problem is to get me back to our table, it's to get me back to our friends. That's her solution, anyway. To my problem.

[Come on.] She signs with force, but her face softens. [Your drink is getting cold.]

“Oh!” I both say and sign it, my drink, my drink. I don't... really care if it gets cold, but I'm going to miss the drinks they serve here. And the food, and evenings spent with Shizune and Hisao, talking about student council or life in general or just nothing.

I'm going to miss it.

I'm going to miss it all.



[You'll let us know as soon as you arrive, correct?] Shizune signs, oblivious to the rush and the roar of the airport that seems to press me from all sides. I bob my head up and down, of course I am.

“And when I get set up, I'll find a way to do one of those video chats! And then I'll see you all the time~!” I don't really need to speak the words aloud as I sign, of course Hisao can understand the motions. But I want to, I find that spot in the back of my throat and push, I push until my voice gets loud and loud and people are even looking at us but I don't care, I feel better like this.

I want to leave Japan, I want to leave my home with a bang. With a smile and a wave and a promise to meet again and have lots of fun. I don't want the last sound I make here to be a whimper.

[It's a promise.] Shizune replies with a determined smile. Things aren't going to be easy for them either, they're both headed to different universities once school starts up here again, and I know that's going to be hard. I guess things are going to be hard for all of us, at least for a while.

I guess that's what growing up is.



Is this it?

It is, it is. It's the last time I'll see this room.

It's the last time I'll close this door, I didn't even realize it but, this morning. That was the last time I would ever wake up in this bed.

My bed.

Everything is packed, the walls are empty and the floor is bare and it's the most depressing sight I've ever seen. Maybe.

I mean, it was a nice room. A nice bed, a nice desk, wardrobe, all that. I know there are probably better rooms out there, hopefully my room in America is nice too. But this one was mine.

The time I spent here, the times Shicchan slept over and we studied or just talked and laughed. The nights I spent alone, and I hurt and ached and yearned, just wishing things could be different.

I take a few slow steps across the carpet, I walk over to the bed. On most of those nights, I cried into this pillow. The tears were always mine, but the pillow isn't. Not anymore.

I reach to pick it up, I cradle it in my arms. It's still soft, even if it doesn't have my pillowcase anymore. Even though that belongs to me.

This pillow was my friend, sort of. It was there for me. This whole room, this whole room is my friend, my sanctuary, every piece of it is a piece of me.

And I don't want to go.

I hug the pillow to my chest, I lower my head and sink my chin into its softness, fighting back the tears that threaten to pour down my face.

I'm not scared of going to America, I'm not worried. Some part of me really is excited, somewhere inside it really is what I want. What I need.

“Goodbye.” I mumble, to my friends, to myself. To my old life.

“G-goodbye.” I bury my face in the pillow, feeling it grow warm and wet against my skin just one more time.

“Goodbye...”



“...this is the final boarding call for international flight number fifty-seven, with service to...” A voice drifts over the speakers of the airport.

“Misha. Misha?” Another voice, this one's closer, it's...

A loud snapping shatters my daydreams like glass, I look up. I recognized the second voice as Hisao, but this one... this one I know even better.

Shicchan...

“That's your flight, isn't it? Don't you need to board now?” Hisao asks, signing his speech with practiced ease. Shizune glances at his motions before looking back at me, her eyes are bright, her gaze is steady. I know that she agrees with him. And I know that she understands.

“That's... that's right, Hicchan! I need to go!” I muster my strength to belt out the words, I flip a switch inside and smile brightly. But as I reach down to pick up my carry-on bag, I realize that I can't really sign like this.

Somehow, the noise of the terminal is so loud now. A glance over my shoulder reveals that the line to board the airplane is dwindling, it really is the final boarding call, and I'm out of time. No, no no no, is this it? Now?

I have to do something, this could be one of the most important moments of my life. This could be the last time I... the last time I ever see Hisao and Shizune. Hicchan, Shicchan.

Two-thirds of me.

I don't know what to do, I can't even sign properly like this. Panic is starting to creep into my throat, this is a moment that I should seize, right? This is important, this is so important. I don't know what to do, I just know that I have to do something.

So my head clears. Somehow, some way, time actually does seem to slow down. I look back at the two of them, Hisao is smiling softly and...

...and Shizune, she...

She looks me right in the eyes, and that iron facade cracks wide open. If she was wearing a mask before, it would have split in two now, her face just scrunches up and tears begin rolling down and before I even know what's happening my body is pressed against hers, our arms are wrapped around eachother and both of us are just crying.

I can't stop the tears, now. I don't want to stop them. Shizune hugs me tightly, her frame trembles with each repressed, inaudible sob but I don't have any hesitation, I don't need any restraint, I'm almost wailing now. She lifts one arm away from me but before I can even open my eyes it's replaced by another.

“H-Hicchan...”

“It's okay, Misha.” He replies, even his voice strained with emotion. “We'll talk to you again soon, right?”

“Right.” I sputter, tightening my grip on the two of them. “Right, right, right.”

I need this, I've been needing this, but I know that I have to leave. I sniff loudly, I give my two best friends in the world one more squeeze, but then I pull away, I snatch up my carry-on bag and take a few steps backwards.

Shizune is too busy wiping her eyes to sign, but that's okay. It's enough. We've said enough. She gives me a weak, trembling smile and I return it, even though I'm still crying.

I tear my gaze away from the two of them, I march with trembling legs over to the terminal where a man in a uniform scans my ticket and I pass through the gate at the end of the queue.

No going back now.

No going home now.

The airport staff are impatient, the on-ramp is before me, waiting to take me up and away and to somewhere new. But I still look back. I turn to catch one more glimpse of my friends, my best friends, my everything in the whole world but I have to do this for me.

Hisao's arm is around Shizune's shoulder, her eyes are still red and wet but she gives me a smile, they both do.

I think... I think this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But I still do it. I still find the strength somehow, even though the tears are still coming and my heart is beating so quickly and my legs have turned to jelly.

I smile back. I wave.

And then I turn and go.





“Men of Snow” is a song by Ingrid Michaelson.

[MrDan]

I was a little confused as to what exactly was happening in "What You've Done", but I found it a good read nonetheless. Jigoro is always an interesting character to explore and I like how you portrayed him.
"Men Of Snow" got me a little teary-eyed, and I always love a good Misha story.
The only potential problem I noticed was that you gave a lot of individual sentences their own line, which can be used to good effect, but is somewhat lost when overused. Keep up the good work.

[Scissorlips]

I was a little confused as to what exactly was happening in "What You've Done", but I found it a good read nonetheless. Jigoro is always an interesting character to explore and I like how you portrayed him.

Yeah, that one could be hard to understand without some context, I see that. Jigoro has always interested me, and I'm hoping to perhaps do a little more with him when I get some time in the future.

"Men Of Snow" got me a little teary-eyed, and I always love a good Misha story.
The only potential problem I noticed was that you gave a lot of individual sentences their own line, which can be used to good effect, but is somewhat lost when overused. Keep up the good work.

That is something that might have been used a little heavily in this piece, I admit. Thanks for the feedback, and thank you for reading!