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Re: AtD—Hanako's Arc (Part 4 up 20140319)

Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2014 4:28 am
by Hotkey
I can't remember ever seeing an ugly university campus, and that one is no exception. Are we having a face-off of campus videos? If so, beat my old one!

Now that I've had more time to digest this chapter, this line just doesn't sit right with me.
brythain wrote:“Many t-thanks, small one...”
Hanako is the least likely person in the world to chide someone about their physical appearance. Furthermore, Hideaki is a head taller than her, so he's not small anymore. Also, shy Hanako (who still stutters regularly!) is unlikely to make that kind of remark with someone as physically imposing (looking like a Yakuza boss) as the Hideaki you describe.

Am I being a kill-joy :? ? It was just a joke, after all.

Re: AtD—Hanako's Arc (Part 4 up 20140319)

Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2014 5:51 am
by brythain
Hotkey wrote:It was just a joke, after all.
*grin* yes, it's a pet-name for someone you think of as a younger brother...

AtD—Hanako's Arc (Part 5 up 20140320)

Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2014 10:31 pm
by brythain
This is the fifth part of Hanako's arc in 'After the Dream', my post-Lilly-neutral-end mosaic.

Note: By now we know that Hanako likes to tell stories her own way. As far as I can tell, she begins in 2012, the year they graduated from Tokyo, and ends this piece in 2024. The dinner must be the one also described here.


Hanako 5: Faith (T +0)

Many years ago, I looked at my notes and I asked myself why the whole story, the story of Hisao and his friends, had turned out so tragically. In the year that he died, that is what it seemed, and that is what it was. Chesterton said that you see only great things from the valley, only small things from the peak; when you’re down, everything looks impossibly daunting.

Now here we are in the mountains, and the past is a different country, far away and tiny down the lens of time’s wrong-way telescope. And yes, dear reader, I sound so old because that is what I am. But I was also a young and fearful girl, and after that, a mature and grieving friend.

So let me tell you more of that story I never wanted to tell. Try to understand that tragedy may only be half the face of reality; see all, nor be afraid.

*****

We are sitting on a warm wooden bench in the spring sunshine. It will be our last year together at Todai, the greatest university of all Japan. It’s a special day to me, because I am young and hopeful, and Hisao is all mine for this morning. The sunlight is in his hair, which makes it look like copper, and it’s on my face, which I don’t mind.

“Hana, I think you’ll be a great hit. All the young Americans at Columbia will fall at your feet! You are exotic, a woman of mystery; you have purple hair! You can walk down Broadway and sing ‘New York, New York!’ I can imagine it. I will tell all my friends that I know that beautiful lady on the American network news, and they will be jealous…”

I know I’m blushing. I know he’s joking. But exams are over, so he has my tacit permission. I laugh, but it’s still a very Japanese giggle, and I still cover my mouth, because this is before I learn bad habits overseas.

“H-Hisao, you’re a bad, bad man! Your parents would be m-mortified. But y-you say some very sweet things.”

Unable to resist, I reach out and rumple his hair, which only serves to make more of it stick out than there is already. I watch his face. He seems surprised and happy to let me do what I’m doing. This is part of our ‘friend zone’. We’re safe for now because we’ve forged an understanding. Friends support each other, and it takes two to agree, before anything else can happen. Which is… unthinkable.

“But you are beautiful, Hana, and you are my friend. And that’s why I’m always sweet to you. Some day, you will be somebody else’s, and I won’t be allowed to do this kind of thing!”

When Shizune is with us, things are different. She and I shop together, she and Hisao study together, and Hisao and I read together. There is silliness and fun, but we don’t pry and we’ve become good at sharing without dividing. Yet three’s still a crowd, a kind of constraint.

What’s dangerous is being alone. There’s this song I like to sing when I have to do karaoke. It’s called ‘One’, and it’s about how that’s the loneliest number. When you’re alone, all you have is your thoughts. And in some of those thoughts, I am Hisao’s and he is mine, and there isn’t anyone else.

“H-Hisao?”

“Yes?”

He’s not sure if my mood has changed.

“Who’s going to look after you when I’m away?”

He looks puzzled at this new direction.

“Somebody must remind you to take your pills, and do your laundry, and stop working when it’s late at night and you’ve been sitting down too long!”

I try to make it light-hearted, but I can’t help but feel a faint tinge of anxiety because nobody else does that for him.

He grins and grabs my fingers. It’s almost a game with us, but I always let him keep them for a while.

“That’s what modern technology is for. You can keep in touch from the other side of the world, even with all the barbarians between us! I have faith in you.”

He fishes around in his satchel, digs something up.

“I bought you a going-away present! We’ll have known each other for five years, so this is appropriate.”

He looks bashful, hopeful, maybe even apprehensive that I won’t like whatever is in the simply-wrapped package. I have something for him too, but it will keep. We can take turns. I accept gracefully, and on impulse, I hold him briefly for a swift peck on the cheek.

*****

Things can change very quickly during the key moments of a hero’s journey, says the older me. But when you are younger, things change far too quickly.

It’s only about five months since the cherry blossoms began and Hisao and I exchanged presents for what would be the last time of our unattached lives. He bumped into Emi Ibarazaki four months ago, they resumed their old acquaintance, and I think they’re now a couple. They themselves don’t seem too sure.

Hisao and Emi are hosting a farewell dinner for Shizune and me, at a pleasantly quiet little café in a side street within walking distance of the University. Hisao is in his accustomed position opposite Shizune, where he can see her hands and translate for her. I’m sitting on her left, opposite Emi.

That’s why I can see the very faint frown on her forehead as she watches Shizune and Hisao interact. I wish I could tell her that there was never anything much between those two, but I can’t be completely sure, so I remain silent.

Shizune chuckles in the back of her throat, one of those things she rarely does, and only when comfortable and happy. She gives Hisao what I think of as a sultry look, partly successful because she’s added a touch of blush that gives her proper cheekbones. I need to divert somebody's attention.

“E-Emi? Thanks for helping me with the mobility exercises recently. I’m a lot more flexible now.”

In truth, I hadn’t realized how stiffly I was moving until Emi hinted at it and helped me learn what I could do about it. It’s something she’s really good at, and I appreciate the kindness she has shown. In exchange, I’ve been helping her catch up on Hisao.

“Oh! It’s nothing.”

Awkward. Emi’s not at her Emi-est, but at her lip-chewing, distracted, other extreme. I persevere.

“It’s a bit s-sad for us to be leaving Japan. But I g-guess we can keep in touch? You and Hisao have been great company these last few weeks.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him exaggeratedly signing those words to Shizune, who gives him in return her ‘what a clever boy you are’ face. Emi sees this, and I can tell she doesn’t know how to interpret that. But she visibly gathers herself and rejoins us.

“It’s our pleasure, Hanako! It’ll be great if we can get together again whenever you’re back. Friends are a blessing to have, right?”

She musters a typically Emi-ish cheeky grin. It’s this expression that I choose to remember her by, whenever I think of that night.

*****

In my Sendai apartment, on a bookshelf, there is a dead old 3G iPhone, all he could afford at the time we were leaving Todai. It’s in its battered box, with the wrapper he used folded neatly inside. In my hands now, taken from his bookshelf, there is a blue and gold hardcover anthology of poetry, all that I myself could then afford. It has a battered slipcase, and there was an old note folded in that.

The funeral ended some time ago, and I am kneeling alone beside a new grave next to an older stone. Somewhere in the air I smell wild apples. Everyone else seems to have left, but I have a promise to keep, and I will begin keeping it today. I turn to the page he marked so long ago, and I imagine that he hears me as he did then.

Though l-lovers be lost, love shall not;
And d-death shall have no dominion.


I manage to get through most of it without breaking down. I have learnt something about myself today, that I am stronger, and that I can remember Hisao without too much regret, because I kept faith with him.

I don’t know how long Hideaki has been sitting there behind me. Without turning, I speak to him.

“Hey. Did you get L-Lilly back safely?”

He stirs like a sleepy jaguar, stretches.

“Ah. Hana-chan, indeed I did. She was quite overcome with grief. I have made apologies to Shizune on her behalf.”

He sits up and looks down at me, his hands placed neatly on his knees. It’s as if he has decided to tell me some deep secret.

“Y’know, Hisao was a really good man. When I was pretending to be Shizune, he’d talk to me as if I was just a normal human being. I think that was his gift. I made him uncomfortable, so did others. But he just kept on trying to treat us right. He even tried acting as if my father was normal. Heh.”

He fiddles with his fingers, as if unsure about what to say. Then he takes a deep breath.

“He said a lot of things to me, over the years. He treated me like the younger brother he never had, and I used to hope he’d marry my sister and make it real. But he always said to me that the most beautiful girl he ever met was you.”

He coughs, as if embarrassed.

“I’m supposed to drive you back to your place. But I was thinking that there’s no food there, so maybe… can I get you dinner?”

“That w-would be nice, Hide-kun.”

I think it’s the first time I’ve ever called him that. For years, I used to call him ‘small one’, even after he grew big. He’s actually blushing, the silly ever-considerate fellow. Oh, Hanako, I say to myself, maybe it’s not only the blind who cannot see.

I look back at Hisao’s grave. He’s always kept faith with me too, in his own way. Perhaps this is his Tanabata wish for me. In my heart, I tell him that I’ll be back after his stone and plaque are in place. And then I stand, and let Hideaki guide me to the waiting car.

=====
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Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 5 up 20140320)

Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2014 4:58 am
by Helbereth
Not very nice to start posting this whilst I was on an MMO-induced hiatus from reality - seriously, though, y'all should try The Secret World - but I can forgive such inconsiderate actions due to its somber excellence. Writing Hanako as a writer is something I've tried to do for my part, though I never quite put such an advanced touch on her composition - the oldest I ever wrote her was a mere twenty-three, which is far too young for such a learned voice - so I'm quite happy to see that particular spin put on her inner monologue.

Having read through part 5, I think the only complaint I have is that Misha's dialogue felt decidedly un-Misha-like. Were it a version of her from some years later, I could understand and permit such a somber tone to her voice, but the one Hanako speaks to after Lilly's departure is supposed to still be the expressively bubbly teenager. Even at such a melancholy moment, I'd expect her to fall into her typical speech patterns.

Making Hideaki the spitting image of his father with a Yakuza suit is just plain glorious.

Anyway, I look forward to this continuing tale.

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 5 up 20140320)

Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2014 7:59 am
by brythain
Helbereth wrote:Not very nice to start posting this whilst I was on an MMO-induced hiatus from reality - seriously, though, y'all should try The Secret World - but I can forgive such inconsiderate actions due to its somber excellence. Writing Hanako as a writer is something I've tried to do for my part, though I never quite put such an advanced touch on her composition - the oldest I ever wrote her was a mere twenty-three, which is far too young for such a learned voice - so I'm quite happy to see that particular spin put on her inner monologue.

Having read through part 5, I think the only complaint I have is that Misha's dialogue felt decidedly un-Misha-like. Were it a version of her from some years later, I could understand and permit such a somber tone to her voice, but the one Hanako speaks to after Lilly's departure is supposed to still be the expressively bubbly teenager. Even at such a melancholy moment, I'd expect her to fall into her typical speech patterns.

Making Hideaki the spitting image of his father with a Yakuza suit is just plain glorious.

Anyway, I look forward to this continuing tale.
That's really useful and encouraging feedback. In particular, I need to get my Misha game going — for me, Rin and Misha are two difficult arcs to write. Rin wanted to go first, but she claimed I failed to understand her and demanded a rewrite. Misha just laughed and told me to try it and see what happened. Hanako smiled demurely and said that if nobody wanted to go first, she'd take the next arc. Hideaki asked to join in. And that's why we're here right now…

Thanks!

AtD—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140320)

Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 10:42 pm
by brythain
This is the sixth part of Hanako's arc in 'After the Dream', my post-Lilly-neutral-end mosaic.

Note: As usual, while Hanako begins in 2028, a year of many interesting events, she ends up in quite another year, one that must be 2044. The 2028 section takes place at the same time as this part of Emi's arc, and before this part of Lilly's arc.


Hanako 6: Flowers (T +20)

It took me many years to learn that people may speak the truth—about the deepest things, about themselves, and about others—without knowing that they do so. They might instead think they are talking about tea, or thermodynamics.

In doing so, they make ghosts for the future. It’s only when we feel the chill, many years down the line, that we make the connection. We remember the sensation of a ghost walking over one’s own grave, as if it were only yesterday.

But I’m not getting any younger, and I’m getting too far in advance of my story. Or am I? As you age, everything you know is in advance of your story—which is why you can tell that story in the first place. Dear readers, pardon me then as I go back to the years just after the funeral, and then those of the year of my most recent past.

*****

5 August 2028

For a few years now, I’ve made it a point to get back to Sendai for Tanabata. I’m not the only one; although I was not born there, my friends and I have been linked by many events, taking place in many summers over the years.

Over time, the wine of melancholy ages, and it is rich, if not so sweet. This is the fourth August since Hisao Nakai passed, and I have duties and privileges connected to that, for he and I always have kept faith between us.

“Meiko-sama, hello!”

Emi’s mother, now a grandmother with two grandchildren in tow, looks up and smiles at me. She’s wearing something decently sober, but still looks vivacious.

“Hello, Hanako! So happy you could make it!”

Her hair tosses in the breeze as she stands outside the cemetery gates. A little boy with tufty chestnut hair is hiding behind her long skirts, but his sister is beaming.

“Aunty Hana! You came!”

“Yes, I d-did! Aww, look at you, you’re so cute! Come give Aunty a h-h… whoof.”

My goddaughter Akiko is eight, and bright, and very pretty, and very, very strong for her age. I carefully get up, having just caught myself from falling over backwards completely and looking more than just a little undignified. I attempt to return the hug, find myself too tightly held to do it properly, and then resort to guile.

“I have a b-birthday present for you. Would you like to see?”

She keeps her hands on my shoulders and leans back to look into my eyes. Unnerving, those murky bronze-green irises in the afternoon sun. She’ll be breaking hearts with them one day.

“Yes!” she says emphatically. Then she pauses, frowns, and adds, “But not till after midnight, cos that’s when I was born. Tomorrow.”

Yes, indeed. Which is why we are here today, although the anniversary of the funeral is tomorrow and the death was two days before that. It isn’t considered auspicious to celebrate birthdays and remember death-days at the same time. I give her one last squeeze and get to my feet.

“Mom and Aunty Rin in there?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, with a touch of gloom. She’s old enough to remember her father, and it strikes me that our whole story is full of missing parents. And that is why we spend some time leaning against Meiko’s car in mutual melancholy, the eight-year-old and the soon-to-be-forty spinster who is supposedly her spiritual mentor, when Emi and Rin emerge.

I greet Emi with a little bow and a big hug. She is in a pensive mood, what I think of as Emi-negative, but seems to cheer up a lot when she sees me. She nods back and her return-hug is warm and real.

“Hey, you made it! I thought you said evening, and I was afraid we’d miss you!”

She’s got her formal legs today, and they put her nearer my eye-level. She wrinkles her nose a little and gives me a mischievous look.

“Hey, is it true? Is he somewhere around?”

Sigh. Soon, all this will have to be resolved. At this point in my life, I am hoping so much for happiness, and fearing so much that I will lose it.

I whisper, “I-I don’t quite know, Emi. Will let you know when things are f-firmer.”

Meanwhile, Rin has sauntered over. With a little frown, she says to me, “He’s very hard to hear today. You’ll have to listen carefully. But if you’re reading to him, I guess it doesn’t matter so much. Mind the butterfly.”

I have no idea what she means.

“Hello, Rin. It’s n-nice to meet again.”

I’m actually not completely sure of this. Rin always triggers such conflicting emotions in me. She did care for Hisao, and does care for Emi and the kids, in her own way. But it’s a way that is sometimes beyond my understanding.

Rin wanders towards the children, who latch onto her shirtsleeves like a pair of very specialized extra limbs. She doesn’t seem to mind, and Meiko turns to me.

“Hanako dear, why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll be taking a longer time, and it’s probably best I bring the kids in last, after you. Then you can all catch up while this old lady deals with her own memories.”

That works for me, and everyone is satisfied with the plan. Meiko Ibarazaki has always been a thoughtful shaper of events. You can see it in the pots she made, a selection of which now reside in a little museum in the eastern Pyrenees.

*****

“Hello, Hisao,” I begin as always. It’s just the two of us, and my stutter disappears almost completely. I am a little shocked to see a bright little butterfly painted on his stone, just under his name, but I recall what Rin said, and guess that Emi must have allowed it.

“I’ve brought you some classical poetry today, and also, maybe talking to you might help me clear my mind.”

There’s a form to such things. Despite my years of trans-Atlantic journeying, I am still a shy Japanese girl at heart, and due formality between friends, even across the divide of the quick and the dead, is an observance that gives us peace.

So I bow and kneel beside my friend’s grave, and begin. It’s a 9th-century poem that I read this time, and I’m afraid I cannot translate it well, out of my native language.

On the paths of dream
I walk with you forever
But our long friendship
Is but a single glimpse
In the real world, where you are not.


“W-well, that’s not quite true, H-Hisao. I see you in Emi’s eyes and the faces of your children, and in many other t-things.”

I pause, collecting myself and thinking sadly of how Komachi must have felt when writing those lines.

“H-Hisao, I’m in love again, unsought and inconvenient. But I think it is true love. I’m an old maid, but he says he has waited long for me. In that, he’s like his master, and also his sister. Hideaki thinks that he’s your disciple, and his steadfast affection for me is very like yours. I never saw it coming. What do I do?”

Of course he says nothing in the real world, where he is not. But today, unusually, there is a butterfly on the stone, and the late afternoon’s light has made it look almost alive. The wind ruffles the leaves in the trees and a faint scent of funereal lilies comes to my nostrils from afar. Then, I know what the answer must be.

*****

8 August 2044

Twenty years have passed since we laid Hisao to rest; almost fifteen since we buried Emi next to him. Still, I am here at the time of the Sendai Tanabata festival, because promises should never be broken.

This year it’s very different. My bear of a husband is surprisingly uncomfortable with this particular tradition of mine, and he’s with our two children at our usual summer residence. My sole companion for today looks at me apologetically, as if shy to be asking.

“Aunt Hana? Shall I wait at the gate, or would you like me to be with you?”

The little girl I knew is now an amazon. Her hair shines like copper and she represents our country in the heptathlon. Her brief hug is gently crushing as I motion to her to wait for me. She lets me go, offers a little wave, and settles down.

This year was a cold year, with much rain. The weather systems of the world have changed since my youth. However, the light fills the old cemetery today, and besides the scents of damp grass and old fruit and stone, the world here is all summer.

There are four markers now. Emi’s mother joined her husband in March, as the cherry blossoms bloomed. I’d like to think they’re happy together now, but I know that’s just sentimentality. Sentimentality or not, I’ve always found talking to Hisao, and even Emi, a meditative experience worth having.

Today is indeed very different. There’s someone else here, with an armful of flowers.

“H-hello?” I manage, somewhat disconcerted. There are times I’ve encountered one or two of our other friends, but those are rare, and often planned.

She turns gracefully to face me. For the first time in a long while, I feel an atavistic terror. It’s like looking into a mirror. My face was repaired six months ago by Nakai Foundation biotechnologists. It’s still a new sensation to me, to feel the odd smoothness and see strange and unfamiliar flesh.

The woman before me has the same long hair. The same face, almost, but a perfect one that has not been marked by fire and pain. And she could fit into any of my clothes.

She bows to return my greeting.

“Ah, I’m so sorry. My family name is Endo. An old friend of mine is buried here.”

If she had said ‘Ikezawa’ I would have fainted. Things like this happen at the margins of life and death, and when they do, you’ve entered a fantasy novel.

“Good afternoon, Endo-san. My family name is Ikezawa. What is your friend’s name?”

“Good afternoon, Ikezawa-san. His name is Nakai. He is buried here with his wife’s family, very unusual.”

I hear myself say, as if from a very great distance, “Oh, h-how interesting. I m-myself am here to visit his grave. We were g-good friends. It’s the anniversary of his burial. D-did you know him well?”

I receive an apologetic look, from this middle-aged woman who looks uncannily like me. I am staring. I can’t help it. There are obvious differences, like the fuller lips and the small mole on the right cheek. Not many.

She sighs abruptly, as if releasing a lot of air that she’s been keeping for too long inside her. She gives me a small, cautious smile. She looks weary and a little sad, and yet manages to look glamorous.

“No, not very well. I was passing through the area when I realized that he’d gone to a nearby school. So I made a little pilgrimage and asked if they had records. Then they sent me here.”

I feel something deep rising from the waters of the past. Innocently, she continues.

“It’s a bit personal, but maybe, as you’re a close friend of his?”

She seems to be asking a favour of me. I nod, unable to speak. She takes a moment and then begins to tell me her story.

“About forty years ago, I had a big crush on him. Then I gave him a heart attack…”

*****

Akiko finally comes looking for me. I’ve spent some time talking to Hisao, keeping the faith between us.

The bouquet of white chrysanthemums lies silent on his grave. The woman who carried them has left.

“Aunt Hana? Are you okay?”

“Coming, dear. Just had a f-funny thought, that’s all. Talking it over with your father.”

“It’s all right, I’m sure Dad won’t mind. Mom always said you were one of his closest friends.”

“Sometimes I wonder if he ever really thought I was p-pretty.”

“Awww. What brought that on? Everyone says he thought you were beautiful.”

She mentions it as a matter of fact, as if telling me that the sun is shining.

“Whose flowers are those?”

She kneels next to me to look more closely at them. I feel her put an arm around her godmother, who is feeling old and fragile but a lot less ugly now.

“It’s nothing really, Aki-chan. Those flowers? They’re from s-someone he used to know a long, long time ago.”

=====
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Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 10:55 pm
by griffon8
I should have figured it out earlier, but it wasn't until Iwanako said she was visiting Hisao's grave that I realized it was her.

Once again, you surprise me.

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 11:10 pm
by brythain
griffon8 wrote:I should have figured it out earlier, but it wasn't until Iwanako said she was visiting Hisao's grave that I realized it was her.

Once again, you surprise me.
*grin* glad to have done so, hopefully in a good way. Am I the only one, though, who's noticed the resemblance between the two?

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 5:21 am
by bhtooefr
Nope.

Leaty had to actually get Iwanako to change her appearance to look like less of a Hanaklone.

And I'm playing with something to address that myself, although no idea when I'll actually get a chance to write it. (And it requires detailing Hanako and Iwanako's immediate families extensively. (The really tricky character to write will be Hanako's father.) I have PLANS.)

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 9:33 am
by brythain
bhtooefr wrote:Nope.

Leaty had to actually get Iwanako to change her appearance to look like less of a Hanaklone.

And I'm playing with something to address that myself, although no idea when I'll actually get a chance to write it. (And it requires detailing Hanako and Iwanako's immediate families extensively. (The really tricky character to write will be Hanako's father.) I have PLANS.)
Wonderful! Always interested in seeing how different takes on the material turn out. Thanks for letting me know.

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 1:17 pm
by griffon8
brythain wrote:*grin* glad to have done so, hopefully in a good way.
If it were in a bad way, I'd let you know. I like surprises.

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 7:27 pm
by dewelar
Continuing to enjoy this (this might be my favorite arc thus far -- really enjoying Storyteller Hanako!), and wanted to chime in on this discussion:
bhtooefr wrote:
brythain wrote:Am I the only one, though, who's noticed the resemblance between (Hanako and Iwanako)?
Nope.

Leaty had to actually get Iwanako to change her appearance to look like less of a Hanaklone.
I wonder how necessary that was, though. I took a good look at this recently for...reasons, and granted, my vision should not be trusted :wink:, but given the way the game represents the two visually, the only real similarity is that they both long, dark hair. Not only is their hair length different (Hanako's is about waist-length, Iwanako's comes to about her shoulder blades), but the shade of Iwanako's hair appears to be more toward blue than purple (so possibly closer to Shizune if anything). Their body shapes are also fairly different, in that Hanako seems larger in the bust and Iwanako larger in the hips. Unless their faces are REALLY similar (alterations thereto notwithstanding), even I wouldn't mistake them for each other.

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 8:35 pm
by Mahorfeus
I always took the supposed Hanako/Iwanako resemblance to be a fairly baseless trope myself. Since as dewelar pointed out, we don't even really know what Iwanako looks like, and what we do see looks fairly different from Hanako. The resemblance could be passing at best, but in this particular fic Hanako thinks as though she just found her long-lost twin sister. Not that I'm lambasting anyone for having that interpretation of their appearances; it's just a passing thing that has nagged at me every so often.

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 8:37 pm
by bhtooefr

Re: After the Dream—Hanako's Arc (Part 6 up 20140322)

Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2014 8:39 pm
by Mahorfeus
bhtooefr wrote:Not canon, but there is this: http://www.katawa-shoujo.com/secret/san ... l.Fink.jpg
Not canon indeed, but I confess that the fact that it was drawn by Mike Inel has given me a certain... bias in its favor. :oops: