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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

Tony hadn't been the same since pepper died in a car accident and leaving him with their daughter, morgan. Then everything changed when he and morgan goes to a flower shop and meets florist peter.

I loved this one! Gosh, there were so many ways I wanted to take this. Thank you so much for the prompt, Non! I hope that this satisfies you. I was so tempted to make this a two parter 😅 If you enjoyed this, please consider giving it a reblog!

TW: Mentions of grief | Grief processing | Allude to depression SFW

This time of the year always rolls around quicker than he can prepare for it. Her birthday is hard. Their wedding anniversary is harder. But this...The death date...It hits like a freight train, an unstoppable force of grief and nostalgia that if not for Morgan would render him useless.

As it is, dates outside of Halloween, Christmas and her own birthday don’t really mean much to her at this age, so where he wakes up immediately wanting to go back to sleep for the next week, she wakes up and begins bouncing on his head, shrieking about cereal and flowers.

“Wh’was ‘ah ‘bout flowers?” he grumbled, rolling away out of the danger zone of her spindly little legs. This was a day of shit-pot luck, though, and no sooner had he settled on his side away from her did a flailing elbow strike him across the temple.

“Flowers! You left a note on the fridge that said we needed flowers today,” she chirped, planting her tiny hands on his bare shoulder and shaking him with strength no six year old should possess. When his brain had stopped rattling around like a marble in a bean can he grumped and groused his way into sitting upright, rubbing at his temples.

After Morgan had gone to bed he’d stayed up, drinking the whiskey he’d promised himself he wouldn’t buy and looking at the photographs he’d promised he’d never unbox. It was the same every October 11th, a habit harder to break than being addicted to crack. It left him worse for wear each time, doubling his misery.

“Alright, bug. Go make yourself cereal. Daddy’s gonna shower and get dressed.” Her bony little heel caught him in the kidney as she scrambled off the bed and he wheezed as he pulled himself upright, staggering into the bathroom.

Not for the first time, he considered enrolling her in a martial arts class. She could be a champion by the time she was ten, if not just for the fact that all her opponents would be in the accident and emergency room.

He ran the shower too hot and stayed until his skin felt over-hot and numb, and forced himself to dress in a semi-nice shirt and the cleanest pair of jeans he owned. When Pepper was alive he’d always dressed to impress, loving the way she’d tease him or grab him by the shirt to drag him back into the bedroom, but these days the outside world was lucky to see him at all.

Morgan was on her second bowl of Lucky Charms when he dragged himself downstairs, and she looked at him intensely for a moment. “It’s Mommy’s death birthday, isn’t it?” she asked after a moment and he forced himself to contain the flinch, wandering over to her and soothing a hand over her hair, before he tugged her against his stomach in a hug.

“It is,” he confirmed roughly. It’d been five years but it was still like rubbing citrus over a fresh wound. He hugged her tighter for a moment, then let her go. “That’s why we have to get flowers today. We have to take them to Mommy’s grave.”

He reached for the lopsided note on the fridge and crumpled it, then threw it in the waste bin.

Pepper had wanted an ‘environmentally friendly’ burial and had been one of the first people in Manhattan to be buried in a ‘grave pod’, a hemp pod filled with seeds and fertiliser and her body. Over the past five years her burial had birthed a small silver birch tree with a sprinkling of wildflowers at its base.

The stupid tree made him smile each time he saw it, no matter how much his heart hurt. It was just the type of person she’d been, to do something so out-there and environmentally conscious, even in death. He was smiling now just at the thought of it, a quirk of his lips chased by bitterness as he let Morgan pull him down the street.

He always let her choose the flower store they went in it, and today she steamrolled other pedestrians out of the way on her mission to reach a gold and blue fronted store that proudly proclaimed itself as The Natural Gallery.

The store front was covered in various bushels and bunches, and even had a small stand full of singular flowers that were clearly left overs or on their way to wilting with a sign say ‘take one and spread some happiness!’

The scent of flora and soil was rich when Morgan yanked him through the doorway, and Tony breathed it in deeply as he looked around. The store’s arrangements inside had been organised like a rainbow, a solid curve of shelves that ran in a horseshoe shape from one wall to the other and behind the service desk.

Morgan immediately abandoned him to peruse the selection and Tony wandered up to the desk, peering with vague boredom at the unorganised mess that covered the desk as he waited for them to be served. There was a rustle from an open doorway just off to the side, a dull thump, and then what looked to be a teenager came staggering through the open space in a cloud of glitter.

Tony took a wary step backwards and was prepared to make his excuses to leave when the teenager turned around, and he suddenly found himself utterly disinterested in speaking at all. The young man was a touch on the shorter side but leanly built, with a chiselled face clinging to the last of its baby fat and the most doe-ish set of brown eyes he’d ever seen, shade matching the glitter-dusted mop of curls that sprawled over his temples.

Pretty. That was the word for it.

“I knew I heard you guys! Hey, I’m Peter. Sorry about the carnage, it’s a birthday thing,” the young man gasped, shaking off his shirt and bounding up to the desk with energy that could rival Morgan’s.

“What can I do for you today?” the florist asked, leaning against the counter in a casual pose. Tony noticed for the first time then that he was wearing a women’s style wifebeater, a shirt that proclaimed in glittery pastel letters Nazis deserve to be punched.

“I uh, I need flowers. For a grave.”

The florist’s cheery face immediately morphed into something softer. Tony hated that so he looked away. Hated the stupid expressions of pity and sympathy that people cast him every time he mentioned Pepper or her death. But when he forced himself to meet Peter’s eye again, it wasn’t exactly pity that he was met with. It was just something...Gentle.

“Of course. Are there any flowers in particular you know they liked, or any arrangements you had in mind?” the florist was already reaching for a notebook and the sample book as he spoke. Tony glanced over his shoulder to reassure himself that Morgan was still mooning over the pretty flowers, then turned back.

“Colourful. None of that... Sad, plain crap,” he breathed after a moment, keeping his gaze off to the side. Morgan had found an abandoned flowerhead on the floor and was cradling it carefully in both hands as she waddled towards them.

“Alright, I think I have an idea for an arrangement. And when are you looking to pick up?” Peter continued, flipping to a blank page in his notebook and immediately beginning to scrawl in slightly messy cursive.

“Today. Any time.”

The florist seemed surprised, pausing and chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, but then he nodded and jotted down another note. “I can get something done in half an hour? I’ll just need a $10 deposit, and-- Oh, okay.”

Tony held out his bank card, gaze dropping down to Morgan as she approached the counter. “Take the full cost now,” he instructed blandly as she set the flower down on top of the counter.

“Mister! This one lost his friends. And his body,” she greeted, pushing the flower across the counter towards the florist, who cast her a warm smile and picked up the flower head with the same careful cradle of his palms.

“Oh dear, so he has,” he agreed, inspecting the flower carefully. “But that’s okay, because I know of a special job he can do even without a body.”

Morgan appraised him for a long moment before speaking. “Flowers don’t have jobs. They don’t need money,” she informed him seriously, before he turned to look up at her Father with pleading eyes. “Can we get cheeseburgers?”

Weak as he was, he couldn’t deny her anything even when he felt like this, and once the florist had rung up his card and handed him the receipt they left the store and headed to the nearest burger van.

Morgan chose her customary single cheeseburger with so much ketchup it dripped out of the sides, and they sat down on a nearby bench to people watch as they ate.

“I think his shirt is right,” she piped up after several bites, and he cast her a weary, wary gaze, reaching out to rub ketchup off her mouth with a napkin.

“Who’s shirt, bug?”

“The pretty flower man. His shirt said we should punch Nazis. I think it’s right.”

Tony blinked at her and wondered where she’d even learned about Nazis (perhaps he should have paid more attention to the curriculum sheet her elementary had mailed him) before he bit into his own burger, watching passively as a particularly bold pigeon chased after a small, fluffy dog.

They’d passed almost twenty minutes by the time they threw their wrappers in the bin, and Tony let Morgan tow him along back to The Natural Gallery.

Peter was ready for them when they stepped inside, despite the fact that they were five minutes early. The young florist was half-hidden behind a large arrangement of colourful flowers that made Tony’s chest constrict when he saw them, and he weakly let go of Morgan’s hand so she could power on ahead to the counter.

Peter looked over to greet them and seemed to realise that Tony needed a moment, because he immediately began to talk to Morgan about the flowers.

“The tiny blue ones are called forget-me-nots. Your Daddy didn’t want anything plain, so I used these instead of a flower called baby’s breath, which are tiny white flowers. These big ones are sunflowers, these are roses, and look, here’s the flower you found on the floor!”

Tony forced himself to wander closer. The arrangement was an artful splash of primary colours tied together with what looked like coloured rope, and the slightly rumpled flowerhead had been sewn into the front of the front of the rope, almost like a brooch.

It was the exact kind of simplistic yet artistic thing that Pepper would have loved, and Tony could feel his throat start to close up the longer he stared at it.

Peter didn’t do him the indignity of offering any pandering sympathies or well wishes, the energetic florist simply explained the meaning behind the flowers used, explained the rope was hemp dyed with red wine so it was all 100% biodegradable, and gave Morgan a pretty, yellow flower to tuck behind her ear.

Tony left him with a $10 tip for being a ray of sunshine despite the fact that he’d undoubtedly been a prickly, unapproachable customer, and that was the end of it.

Until a few months later, when Morgan hauled his ass straight back to The Natural Gallery like a greyhound after a rabbit for Pepper’s birthday.

Her birthdays were probably the ‘easiest’ of all the dreaded dates. It was more nostalgic than painful, and he often passed the day away looking through old memories and thinking of all the birthday plans they never got to do together.

This year, however, Morgan insisted on getting Pepper flowers as a present, and hadn’t even hesitated between the car and her single-minded charge to the florist. Tony was beginning to suspect this was premeditated.

The store hadn’t changed much since they’d last been here, and the florist was already at the counter with another customer when Morgan barged through the door.

“Hello again, little Miss. Stark,” he waved at her as she hauled Tony towards a display of pink flowers, and he frowned before remembering his name had been on his bank card and he’d told the florist to hold the arrangement under ‘Tony Stark’. It was painfully obvious Morgan was his daughter, so it was also easy to denote that her name would be Morgan Stark.

Still. The kid had remembered, out of all the names and people he’d seen in the months since.

It didn’t take long for the young man to finish up with the customer, and then the florist stepped around the counter, coming towards them with a broad smile. Tony desperately tried to remember the guy’s name, even as he found himself distracted by the lazy-casual outfit the teen wore.

His nails were painted purple.

“Peter! Mommy needs flowers for her birthday!” Morgan shrilled in greeting, and Tony could feel his expression twist. She said it so simply, as if ‘Mommy’ was just at work or home and it made that familiar sinking weight in his chest grow. In front of them Peter’s nose scrunched when he smiled, and he set his hands on his hips in mock thought.

“Hm, that’s a good present for a birthday! Do you know what flowers Mommy likes best? Or her favourite colours?” The florist - Peter - was just as cheerful as Tony vaguely remembered him being the last time. Tony piped up before Morgan could talk again.

“Same as last time. Please. Colourful.”

Peter seemed to get it instantly. His cheerful smile took on the softest warmth for a moment, before it became vibrant and lively again as he looked down at Morgan. “I think we can manage that, hm? If your Daddy doesn’t mind you being my assistant for a few minutes?”

“Daddy doesn’t mind,” Morgan answered on his behalf, and Tony found he didn’t have the motivation to argue, standing back and watching and Peter let Morgan pull him all around the store, pointing out every bright and pretty flower she came across.

Against his own will, something fragile and new began to bloom in his chest. It felt horrifyingly like warmth, like something...Verging on fond.

And it wasn’t entirely for Morgan.

The florist was a natural with her. He didn’t talk to her like most people talked to young children, infantizing and almost condescending. He listened intently to every word she said and taught her little snippets about each flower she pointed out, letting her touch the petals and letting her tow him around without ever reaching for her first, mindful of the fact that she was not only her own person, but the young child of a stranger.

He allowed himself to briefly imagine what it would have been like if Pepper had lived. If they’d had a son before Morgan, so she could grow up with a doting older brother that would smile at her the same way and indulge her every whim. Another doting family member to wrap around her little her finger.

“And one for Daddy too!” brought him out of his twisted musings and he looked across the room. Peter stood with a little wicker basket full of orange and red flowers, and Morgan had what looked to be a tulip tucked behind one ear.

Peter was holding another in his hand, and when he looked up the teen tipped his head a little, arching a brow with a smile that said may I?

He grunted, and while Morgan busied herself with preening in a tiny mirror, Peter crossed the room towards him.

“She’s wonderful. I hope if I ever have children, they turn out like her,” the teen murmured as he reached out and carefully tucked the flower into the breast pocket of Tony’s jacket. This close he smelt like flowers and a refreshing undertone, like clean water.

There was flower pollen in his hair and his lips were bitten a rosy pink. Freckles dusted the bridge of his nose in the barest hint of colour.

“She takes after her Mother,” he said it before he could even think about the words, but Peter’s smile remained steady and warm, with none of the usual overly sweet pity he was often met with.

“She takes after you, too. The perfect mix, I imagine.” And was that... A touch of teasing, maybe? The slightest sparkle in those eyes? Tony shifted under the scrutiny and looked over Peter’s shoulder, back to his daughter.

He supposed it was true. Morgan had every bit her Mother’s personality, but looks wise she’d taken after him the most. Her dark hair, fair skin and shapely jaw were all his features.

“She’s better than I am,” he breathed after a moment. She had none of his bitterness, none of his cynical bones. Perhaps it was her youth, but not even losing her Mother had soured her outlook on life. When he looked back Peter was still staring at him, and Tony realised just how close they were still standing.

Evidently, he wasn’t the only one.

“Are you gonna kiss ‘im?” Morgan asked from a little way across the shop, and Tony jerked, looking at her in alarm, but Peter simply gave a light chuckle, turning away and moving back towards the counter.

“Your Daddy is very handsome, but I’ve got to organise these flowers for your Mommy! If I get started, do you think you’ll remember to come back in twenty minutes when they’re ready?”

Morgan solemnly promised to be back here in exactly, precisely twenty minutes, and immediately demanded that Tony took her to find some juice. Tony held her hand as they walked out of the store, and he frowned down at her.

“Don’t say things like that again, sweetheart. I’m not going to kiss random people. Especially not on Mommy’s birthday.” It came out perhaps a little sharper than he’d intended, and he bought her an extra juice to make up for the almost hurt way she’d looked up at him afterwards.

The flowers were just as beautiful as last time. He left Peter with another tip, and tried to ignore how Morgan spent ages telling Pepper’s tree all about the ‘pretty flower boy’ that was ‘her and Daddy’s new best friend’.

He didn’t have the heart to correct her, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the next time she came with him to get flowers for something, she’d drag him straight back to The Natural Gallery.

He was half right, as it turned out. Morgan’s apparent adoration for the florist had transferred into a love for flowers, which became a blatant excuse to visit Peter again when it became clear Tony didn’t know anything about plants beyond shoving seeds into the soil of their backyard and hoping for the best.

“Peter will know!” she announced, after five minutes of the two of them standing helplessly in the plant food aisle of their local gardening store, staring at no less than forty different brands and bottles of plant feed.

“Honey, he’s just a store florist, he might not know everything about actual horticulture,” Tony tried valiantly, but she would hear none of it, and first thing the next morning she woke him up by kicking him squarely in the middle of the spine and shouting PeterPeterPeter!

Thus, he found himself hobbling gingerly into The Natural Gallery barely an hour after its opening time, grimacing at the early morning sunshine and cradling his coffee, which he’d had to pour into a travel mug because the longer he’d taken to drink it, the darker Morgan’s stare had gotten.

“Hi! Welcome to-- Tony?” Peter came up short where he’d popped around the corner, looking surprised to see them. It had been less than three weeks since their last visit, and the teen looked the most put-together Tony had ever seen him, far too chipper for this hour.

Morgan greeted him with a wave that bordered on violent, and she promptly ditched Tony in the doorway to bound up to the counter.

“We want a pretty garden but Daddy is useless and doesn’t know anything about flowers, so you have to come to our house and help us!”

Tony shot upright then cringed and reached for his back like an old man.

“Now, hang on. We never said anything about him coming over,” he warned Morgan, casting Peter an apologetic glance as he forced himself to catch up to his runaway child, giving her a stern look when he finally leaned against the counter. Morgan, unperturbed, looked at him like he was a simpleton.

“How else is he gonna help us plant flowers? Duh, Daddy,” she huffed at him, before she looked back across at Peter.

“I want pretty flowers like the ones you have. Daddy bought all the seeds and everything but it still looks plain and boring.”

He was almost offended on behalf of his garden. He had a very nice lawn, thank you very much, and the few flowers that had somehow survived with Pepper being there to care for them still came doggedly back every year.

“Morgan. You know the rules about going to strange people’s houses and inviting strangers home,” he reminded her pointedly, mock flicking her between the eyes.

“But Peter is our friend, and you said friends are allowed home as long as I ask and you make sure its safe!” Morgan protested, and Peter cooed.

“Aw, I think you’d be a wonderful friend, Morgan, but your Daddy is right. But! How about I give you and your Daddy some tips to write down for getting a really nice garden, and maybe you can take pictures when it all blooms and come show me?” Peter’s looked up at Tony when he said it, and Tony found he couldn’t do anything except - somehow - smile.

God, Pepper would have loved this kid.

It took Peter offering Morgan a freshly bloomed pink lily for her to fully accept the fact that she couldn’t bring her new ‘friend’ home, but eventually she came around to the idea, and Tony found himself in a surprisingly spacious back area of the store, surrounded by various floristry supplies and flower off-cuts and Peter tapped around on a slightly beaten up laptop, showing them different plants that were generally ‘safe bets’ to have in a garden, fertiliser types and the most common downfalls many a hopeful gardener faced when starting out.

As Morgan leafed intently through one of the many flower-based magazines laying around, Tony forced himself to speak.

“Sorry. She gets ahead of herself.” He didn’t need to elaborate on what he was referring to, but Peter just cast him a broad, warm smile, and nudged their shoulders together lightly.

“Don’t apologise. She’s a delight. I almost wish I was her age again. I don’t mind when you guys come here. It makes the day a little bit brighter. Who knows, maybe one day I might even get to see you smile.”

And Peter more or less embodied the smiley face emoticon at the end of the sentence, grinning sunnily at Tony before Morgan thrust a magazine page in his face and demanded to know what flower was being shown in the picture.

They left with a stack of print-outs and magazines, and as Morgan sat in the car on the way home she looked across at him thoughtfully.

“Peter is very pretty.” She probably meant it as a question, but it came out so firmly it sounded like a statement. He let the car roll to a stop and side-eyed her warily.

Was this her first crush? No, it couldn’t be. She was six. Tony hadn’t had his first crush until... Okay, yeah, no. It could very well be her first crush.

“Do you think so?” he asked after a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. She looked at him like he’d just asked her what 1+1 was, and rolled her eyes before she looked forwards again, apparently not dignifying him with a response.

The next morning she woke him up right at the strike of six, and not even an hour later he found himself on his knees in the dirt of the garden, diligently rooting around in the dirt to pluck out weeds, rocks and to replace no less than half of the dirt with fertiliser from a big, stinky bag while Morgan dutifully moved each and every critter they came across to safety.

It took him four hours, but eventually every border of the garden had been re-dug, replanted and soaked through with the garden hose. Tony schlepped off to the shower with a groan, almost regretting the outcome of raw dogging his wife, no matter how good it had felt at the time.

He lathered himself up thoroughly and felt somewhat more alive by the time he made his way downstairs for another well earned cup of coffee.

To his both his joy and his dismay, gardening with Morgan became A Thing. Twice a week if it didn’t rain they dragged the hose out of the garage and watered all the grass and tiny little green shoots and once every two weeks they both found themselves kneeling in the dirt to painstakingly weed the soil and make sure their little ‘baby flowers’ as Morgan called them were growing unhindered and healthy.

Perhaps worst of all, he found himself thinking about Peter each time he tended to the garden or watched Morgan chat excitedly to her teachers and friends about all her new flowers and the pretty flower boy who taught her and her Daddy how to have a nice garden.

He thought of that sunny smile and those bright eyes, the curls that permanently looked like the kid had just woken up and the random assortment of clothing he seemed to just roll out of bed and throw on.

He’d had one or two hook ups since Pepper had died. Had briefly tried dating before he’d found he hated the differences too much, hated the lingering cloud of Pepper over each potential relationship, hated the way other kisses tasted like betrayal. Yet here he was, thinking about the lips on a kid he’d met three times.

Almost three months had passed, and Morgan had dragged him back to the gardening store to see if they had any pretty ornaments they could put in the garden. He turned to ask her if she wanted to bunny or the fox when he realised with a jolt of cold panic that she was no longer at his side. He tried to calm himself and glanced up and down the aisle, but she wasn’t in sight either.

Alright. Calm. She was probably the next aisle over. She knew not to wander off without telling him, but maybe she’d been distracted or he just hadn’t heard her. He set the ornaments down and jogged to the end of the aisle, stepping around the other one. No Morgan. No Morgan in the one on the opposite end, either.

“Fuck!” he huffed, spinning on his heel. The checkout desks? Maybe she’d tried to find a toilet-

“Tony!”

He spun on his heels and stared as he spotted Peter trotting towards him, hand in hand with one Morgan Stark, who looked happy but a little meek, especially once she met his eye.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. I’m so sorry, I was here buying seeds and I turned around and she was right there. She said she was here with you and she saw me walking and wanted to say hello. We came straight back to you, didn’t we, Miss. Stark?” Peter asked, looking down at where Morgan hung off his arm like a guilty koala.

“Uh huh. Because walking off from Daddy without saying isn’t good and makes him sad.” She evidently repeated from something Peter had said, looking up at the florist before she let go of his hand and bounded across to Tony, clinging to him when he lifted her up.

“Sorry Daddy. I didn’t want to make you said. I just wanted to see Pretty Peter,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Peter’s cheeks were pink when Tony looked across at him again, and there was soil under his pink fingernails and dusted on his shoulders.

He took in a breath.

“Well... Maybe I can give Pretty Peter my number. Just so next time you run off because he’s better looking than me, he can call me so I don’t get sad, huh, bug?” he ran a soothing hand down her back when she pulled away to grin and him, and Peter’s cheeks looked like hot coals by the time Tony hesitantly glanced up at him.

“I’d like that,” the florist beamed at him, shuffling sweetly on the spot. “And, for the record... I think you’re plenty good looking.”

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failes-xtra-bits · 4 years

Text

Princes Gambit Review Ch 2

Chapter 2 begins with a remark on how the soldiers that the regent chose were of the worst standard, once again showing his meticulous planning. We learn that they are making disrespectful remarks and sly insinuations.

“ No wonder Aimeric had been furious: even Damen, who had frankly no objection to men slandering Laurent, was finding himself annoyed. It was disrespectful to speak that way of any commander. He’d loosen up for the right cock, he heard. He pulled too sharply on the girth strap of his horse.”

This quote reveals the true extent of the crudity of these comments. So much so that even Damen (who has had nothing but verbal and emotional abuse from Laurent) is annoyed. This can be attributed to him wanting this campaign to go well because he wants to get home.

We learn that Laurent and Damen had been discussing the terrain. We also get more tension build up.

“As the night wore on, Laurent had abandoned his deliberate comportment for a relaxed, youthful pose, drawing one knee up to his chest and slinging an arm around it. Damen had found his gaze drawn to the easy arrangement of Laurent’s limbs, the balance of wrist on knee, the long, finely articulated bones. He had been aware of a diffuse but growing tension, a sensation almost like he was waiting . . . waiting for something, unsure what it was. It was like being alone in a pit with a snake: the snake could relax, you could not.”

I love how sexual tension and hate are very mixed up here. I also like how we are getting a very relaxed Laurent here as well.

Eventually the company ride out and here Damen notes the difference between Govart and Laurent.

“Govart crude and commanding on a warhorse at their head, and beside him beside him—young, elegant and golden—the Prince. Laurent looked like a figurehead, eye-catching and useless.”

This is less an analysis of character (because we all know that Laurent is far from useless) but more of an assessment of political power. Currently Laurent for all his intellect is no more than a political pawn.

The men then set up camp and Damen goes to Paschal when he hears Aimeric and Orlant talking. Orlant trying to get Aimeric to tell him who did it while Aimeric keeps claiming that its all his fault. Damen goes to find Jord because he knows how to handle Orlant.

“The man Jord had been speaking to gave Damen an unpleasant look after Jord left. ‘I heard you were good at carrying tales. And what will you be doing while Jord stops that fight?’

‘Getting massaged,’ said Damen, succinctly.”

Love this bit because I love Damen’s sass. Damen visits Paschal and then goes to report to Laurent in his tent. In the tent we are greeted with the image of

“Laurent was seated in the entrance area, which was arranged for visitors with chairs and a receiving table, much like a warfield tent. He was talking to one of the scruffier-looking servants about armaments. Except that he wasn’t talking, he was mostly listening. He waved Damen inside to wait.

Once again our hatred against Laurent is slowly unravelling. By having him ‘listening’ rather than ‘talking’ to this servant the reader considers him in an almost empathetic light. We also start seeing that he has the makings of a good leader. The servant is dismissed and we are hit with this iconic line.

“Well? Attend me,’ said Laurent.

‘Attend,’ said Damen.

The word sank into him. He felt as he had in the training arena when he had been unwilling to go near the cross.

‘Have you forgotten how?’ Laurent said.

He said, ‘The last time, this did not end pleasantly.’

‘Then I suggest you behave better,’ said Laurent.

Laurent turned his back on Damen calmly and waited. The lacing of Laurent’s brocade outer garment began at his nape, and ran in a single line all the way down his back. It was ridiculous to . . . fear this. Damen stepped forward.

In order to begin unlacing the garment, he had to lift his fingers and brush to one side the ends of the gilt hair, soft as fox fur. When he did so, Laurent tipped his head very slightly, offering better access.

It was the normal duty of a body servant to dress and undress his master. Laurent accepted the service with the indifference of one long used to attendance. The opening in the brocade widened, revealing the white of an undershirt pressed warm against skin by the heavy outer fabric, and by armour atop that. Laurent’s skin and the shirt were the exact same delicate shade of white. Damen pushed the garment over Laurent’s shoulders and just for a moment felt, beneath his hands, the hard, corded tension of Laurent’s back.

‘That will do,’ said Laurent, stepping away and tossing the garment to one side himself. ‘Go and sit at the table.”

We are again reminded of Laurent’s brutal treatment. But it is also interesting to note that Laurent is also tense during this scene. Is it because he feels disgusted about having the man who killed his brother attend him? Yes, that and also the difficulties that are presenting themselves. I am sure Laurent is aware of what the regent is doing.

Anyway the scene ends with Laurent asking Damen about military manoeuvres. Which we assume happens because it skips to the next morning where Jord asks Damen to the practice field.

Damen is excited by this idea, because he is at his core a warrior. When they arrive there are people there but not many are the Regent’s men. Damen and Orlant start fighting.

“There had been no explosion last night, and Orlant and Lazar were within a hundred paces of each other without any sign of bodily harm, but that meant that Orlant had a grievance that had not yet been expressed to his satisfaction, and as Orlant stopped what he was doing and came forward, Damen found himself face to face with a challenge that he should have predicted.

He caught the wooden practice sword instinctively when Orlant tossed it to him.

‘You any good?’

‘Yes,’ said Damen.

He could see from the look in Orlant’s eyes what he intended. People were beginning to take notice, pause in their own practice.

“This isn’t a good idea,’ said Damen.

‘That’s right. You don’t like fights,’ said Orlant. ‘You prefer going behind people’s backs.’

The sword was a practice weapon, wood from pommel to blade-tip, with leather wound around the hilt to provide a grip. Damen felt the weight of it in his hand.

‘Afraid to spar?’ said Orlant.

‘No,’ said Damen.

‘Then what? Can’t fight?’ said Orlant. ‘You’re only here to fuck the Prince?’

Damen swung.

Damen and Orlant start fighting, Damen wins the fight. At the end of the fight Jord comes along and indicates at Laurent who had been watching them (do voyeuristic tendencies also extend to fighting? Can’t blame him, martial arts is hot). Damen leaves and goes to Laurent.

“You were looking for me?’

Laurent didn’t answer, and Damen couldn’t interpret his expression.

‘What is it?’ said Damen.

‘You’re better than I am.’

Damen couldn’t help his amused breath of reaction to that, or the long, scrolling look from Laurent’s head to his toes and back again, which was probably a little insulting. But really.

Laurent flushed. The colour hit his cheeks hard, and a muscle tightened in his jaw as whatever he felt was forcibly repressed. It was not like any reaction that Damen had ever seen from him before, and he couldn’t resist pushing it a little further.

‘Why? Do you want to spar? We can keep it friendly,’ Damen said.

‘No,’ said Laurent.

Whatever might have passed between them after that was forestalled by Jord, who was approaching from behind him with Aimeric.”

I love this little exchange because while initially it seems like Laurent might really be turned on by Damen’s fighting (which he subconsciously may be), in hindsight it comes across as more embarrassed that he has been training for all his life to kill Damen, but still isn’t good enough. Its also my fav because its one of those rare moments where we see Laurent’s composure falter and we see him blushing.

They are interrupted by Jord and Aimeric. Jord leaves with Laurent for a bit leaving Damen alone with Aimeric. Jord comes back to find Damen and apologises to him.

“I want you to know,’ said Jord, ‘when I asked you to join us this morning, it wasn’t to give Orlant the chance to—’

‘I know that,’ said Damen.

Jord nodded slowly. ‘Any time you want the practice, I’d be honoured to go a few rounds against you. I’m a lot better than Orlant.’

‘I know that too,’ said Damen.

He got the closest thing to a smile he’d received from Jord. ‘You weren’t that good when you fought Govart.’

‘When I fought Govart,’ said Damen, ‘I had my lungs full of chalis.’

Another slow nod.

‘I’m not sure how it is in Akielos,’ said Jord, ‘but . . . you shouldn’t take that stuff before a fight. Slows your reflexes. Saps your strength. Just some friendly advice.’

‘Thank you,’ said Damen, after a long, drawn out moment had passed.”

I like this purely because its hilarious and shows that Damen is gaining some friendship and respect.

At last the long awaited fight that is to seperate the men happens and its between Lazar and Aimeric. The fight sets of more fights between Jord, Orlant and Govart but somehow Jord manages to calm the situation down. Then Damen goes to see Laurent. They discuss the fight and we learn that Aimeric and councillor Guion’s son. Soon Damen reveals the real reason why he’s seeing Laurent, he wants to talk about Govart.

“I know you are capable of bringing Govart to heel without it being seen as an act of aggression against your uncle. I can’t believe you fear Govart. If you did, you’d never have set me against him in the ring. If you’re afraid of—’

‘That’s enough,’ said Laurent.

Damen set his jaw. ‘The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to regain face with your uncle’s men. They already talk about you like—’

‘I said that’s enough,’ said Laurent.

Damen was silent. It took a great deal of effort. Laurent was staring at him with a frown.

‘Why do you give me good advice?’ asked Laurent.

Isn’t that why you brought me with you? Instead of speaking those words aloud, Damen said, ‘Why don’t you take any of it?”

While our own judgement of Laurent is unravelling so is Laurent’s judgement of Damen. Its cool how we are going through the same journeys as the characters. I love that Laurent is surprised as Damen’s decency. *chef’s kiss*

Anyway Laurent leaves stating Govart has already resolved matters to his satisfaction.

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thefinalcinderella · 6 years

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Tsurune Book 1 Chapter 1-Yata no Mori (Part 1)

It’s finally here!!! It took such a long time, but I finally finished it! This chapter, like all the chapters in this book, are very long so I will be splitting them up into two parts. Also my scanner won’t work for some reason so get ready for some insert pictures in very bad quality.

Now you may notice that some kyudo terms have the translation right next to them in brackets. That is because there are way too many terms right in this first chapter, and to prevent people from having to scroll up and down I decided to put them right there. I hope it won’t be too intrusive. I also put numbers next to the Eight Stages of Shooting whenever they come up, since you have to have a good picture of the pose to understand what’s going on (thinking of replacing the gif with the still frames.)

So, anyways, I hope you enjoy this. I should have the second part up soon.

Translation Notes

1. Owl in Japanese is “fukurou”, so it’s like naming an ostrich “Os”.

2. A gi is the white uniform martial artists wear, so a kyudogi is the kyudo version of it.

3. So this word was originally “穹天” (kyuuten) which seems to be a Chinese word rather than Japanese. It apparently means “the vault of heaven” and I’m 50% sure the author chose this word because the 穹 character because it has the 弓 radical in it

Full list of translations here

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When he looked up, Minato’s eyes reflected the hazy blue sky.

His graceful body, fitting for a fifteen-year-old, was wrapped in training clothes, and he advanced along the straight mountain path where snow still remained. When he passed under the tunnel of treetops, he could see the three-car train travelling slowly in the distance. The surrounding mountains were sprinkled with yellow-green, the mountain cherry blossoms spreading out here and there.

It was the mountain in springtime. The budding trees were dazzling.

The final point of his running route every morning was the neighborhood park. He washed his face with water from the water fountain in the corner, then lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe it. A long, white scar was briefly exposed on his uncovered left flank.

Because he didn’t wipe himself up properly, water dripped from his bangs. If it were the old him, he wouldn’t have done such a lazy thing. It was an act of sensing that he had forgotten his towel, and because the reason that he must leave was approaching.

A boy in casual clothes, seeming to be taking a walk in the neighborhood, stood next to Minato. His full-rimmed, plastic glasses frame was familiar, and one of the objects that symbolized him as intelligent and calm. One got the impression that he was more mature than Minato, and not just because he had already celebrated his sixteenth birthday.

A smile appeared on his face, like he was making fun of his companion.

“Morning, Minato. Even though it’s spring, it’s still cold in the mornings.”

“…Seiya, good morning.”

It wasn’t that Minato didn’t want to see Seiya. If anything, he was the only person he could call his best friend, and he had known him the longest. However, he did not want to meet him during training if possible.

Seiya, upon realizing that, spoke with an innocent look on his face. “It’s usually my dad’s job, but he was busy this morning, so I took his place.”

“Oh, are you walking Bear?”

If someone only listened to that exchange, they might have gotten frightened. “Bear” was the name of a dog. He was a Bernese mountain dog, a mountain dog that originally came from Switzerland. They were weak to heat, so this area, which had a high altitude and was relatively cool even in Japan, was perfect.

Even though there were those who would take the “Bernie” part of its name and name it “Bunny-chan” like a rabbit, there weren’t a lot of people who would name it “Bear”. Seiya’s naming sense may be in doubt, but a family who allowed him to give that name was also worthy of respect.

Minato also greeted Bear, and Bear waggled his tail. He had long fur with a black, white, and brown luster, and the round, light-brown tufts of fur above his eyes resembled eyebrows. When he was embraced, his transmitted body temperature felt good. Bear licked Minato’s face. He then brought his nose close to his left flank, gesturing for him to show it.

“Hey, Bear, you’re tickling him. That spot’s already fine.”

Having been chided, Bear immediately stopped, and sat next to Minato. Four years ago, he had been a mischievous puppy, but he grew up kind and smart. Just like his owner.

The two people and one dog went to the back of the park, entering the forest there. Bear was a dog who enjoyed being useful to people, and went to the front as though telling them to follow him. There was a wide paved road which could be reached by car, but this way was a shortcut, and on the way, there was a narrow path that one person could barely squeeze past. It was a path made by the denizens of the area coming and going—an animal trail, so to speak.

Seiya grabbed Minato’s arm, who seemed like he was about to faint from the tone of the morning that was so different from usual.

“Are you alright? If you collapse and miss the entrance ceremony in the morning, that’ll be a spectacular high school debut.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, at that time, I will offer to nurse you faithfully in our special hospital room.”

“And I’ll politely turn you down. I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

“I’m not going to do anything. Right, Bear?”

Bear made an answer that was unclear as to whether or not it was positive or negative.

Seiya’s house was an orthopedic clinic, and right behind Minato’s house. For Narumiya Minato and Takehaya Seiya, today was their entrance ceremony at the same high school. As this was a small town in the mountains, it wasn’t unusual for their high schools to be the same. But Minato hadn’t known this until just a few days ago. Unlike Minato, who chose the neighborhood public high school for financial reasons, Seiya could have chosen the best school in the prefecture or a challenging private school.

While feeling something muddled, Minato thought about the new life that would be beginning from now on.

The Kazemai High School’s entrance ceremony.

Cherry blossoms that weren’t supposed to bloom yet in this region greeted Minato and the others.

It wasn’t just the plants that were making merry early with the arrival of spring. What lied in wait after the new students finished the ceremony was recruitment for club activities. All of the groups were shouting, including the girls from the cheerleading squad holding colourful bonbons in red and orange, and the well-built boys holding a cheering banner that read, “Passing is love!”

Immediately, there were freshmen who were caught by the soccer club. The glints in their eyes were only things indiscriminately sharp upon their suntanned skins. Next to them, there was an idol-like boy who attracted gazes, frequently waving at the female manager.

Giving a sidelong glance at Seiya, who was looking around with interest, Minato quickly passed through the area. However, suddenly, a large boy placed his arms around their shoulders from behind, and two of them couldn’t move.

What an obnoxious recruitment. Minato gave the attacker an indignant look. Then, before his eyes, he gave a friendly smile. Minato felt something similar to deja-vu.

“Aren’t you Minato? And here’s Seiya! It’s been a while. I didn’t expect to meet you guys here again at high school. This is awesome!”

“Wait, you can’t actually be Ryouhei!? Haven’t you gotten too big? I didn’t recognize you for a moment,” Seiya said, then continued. “Minato hadn’t noticed, but I found your name on the class register.”

“I knew that you were being sworn in as the freshman representative. You’re still as smart as ever, that’s expected. That’s great. And Minato, you’ve gotten cooler and cooler since the last I saw you.”

“Stop talking like you’re an uncle flattering your nephews,” Minato said. Ryouhei had a truly strange expression on his face as he stretched.

“I am? But I was looking at you when I said it.”

Yamanouchi Ryouhei was their childhood friend who transferred schools when they were in fifth grade. His body grew bigger, but he was still a simpleminded child on the inside. When other people said words that were taken as sarcasm, Ryouhei said them with a smile. There were few people who could get seriously angry at a puppy that they had become attached to.

That nostalgic face caused Minato’s tense-looking face to break into a smile. They couldn’t stop recounting their childhood stories, like when they lost their shoes swimming in the river after school, or when they got scolded for sneaking into Seiya’s family’s hospital when it was closed and playing with the athletic tape. They were a gang who spent time together like brothers. There was a strange sense of solidarity.

Although there was lingering excitement between the three of them, a small man approaching them caused them to break off their conversation. He was an acquaintance of Ryouhei’s.

“What’s up, Tomi-sensei?”

“Tomi-sensei?” Minato asked.

“Yeah, he’s my homeroom teacher, Morioka Tomio-sensei.”

Tomi-sensei was an old man teacher. He stood on tiptoes to survey the three of them, moving his face closer with effort.

“I have received a certain incognito order. Expecting that all of you are close, I come to stand for the white-feathered arrows. An incognito order is a mission.”

“Mission!? What is it, what is it??”

While Minato was thinking about how suspicious that was, Ryouhei’s eyes shone with curiosity.

“Ah, actually, this school has a kyudo club, but it has hardly been active recently. It received the order to be rebuilt from the principal. Kyudo tends to be thought of as an individual sport, but when everyone’s breathing doesn’t match perfectly, it won’t go well.”

Minato’s heart beat faster at the word “kyudo”.

“And? And?” Ryouhei said, completely on board. “At the middle school I went to, I chose kyudo as my compulsory martial arts course. My kyudo teacher praised me, saying that I had ‘good muscles’. I thought I’d do it seriously when I went to high school. Plus, I might have been influenced by Minato and Seiya.”

“Are these two experienced in kyudo?”

“They are. Narumiya and Takehaya were in the kyudo club in middle school. Narumiya in particular wanted to do kyudo, and I heard that they took the entrance exams for a private middle school with a kyudo club. He’d been talking about the bow since forever.”

Tomi-sensei smiled broadly.

“There are few junior highs with a kyudo club, so people with kyudo experience are valuable. However, It would seem that I have found three all at once. These old eyes are not mistaken. This mission is nothing but a success. Well then, everyone, shall we head for the kyudojo (place where kyudo is performed)?”

Minato panicked. He was troubled by the conversation continuing on without him.

“Please wait. I don’t plan to join any club. My mother died, so I have to do most of the housework, and I also have to make dinner for my father…I’m sorry.”

The white mark on Minato’s left flank was the scar of the injury he had sustained when he was involved in a traffic accident with his mother, which happened one month after Seiya got Bear. However, four years had passed already. The innocent Bear, time, and the passions that they had devoted themselves into had healed the wounded Minato and others. The whitening scar was the proof of that.

Then, why do you keep running every morning…?

Minato felt like he had heard Seiya’s voice. However, Seiya hadn’t said anything.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, if your situation changes, you can just come by and visit us anytime. How about Takehaya-kun and Yamanouchi-kun over here?”

“I’d certainly like to join the club.”

“Me too, me too!”

Seiya, who was supposed to be right next to him, looked to be far away.

Minato wasn’t going to do club activities. Seiya was joining the kyudo club.

Even though there shouldn’t be any problem, his perturbed heart felt unsatisfied. Seiya turned back to look straight at him.

“I’m going to go ahead to the kyudojo.”

“I’m not doing kyudo anymore.”

“I know you’re carrying around your treasure.”

Minato grabbed his bag in spite of himself. And when he realized he fell for Seiya’s bluff, Minato could only make the meager comeback of simply leaving that spot.

Refusing other invitations from his classmates and girls, Minato returned home alone.

Although he lived only with his father, he never felt very lonely or inconvenient because Seiya and his parents were kind. He told Tomi-sensei that he was busy with household chores, but his father often didn’t take dinner at home, so that was the perfect excuse. When he confirmed that the pouch with the dragonfly pattern was in his bag, he flew out beneath the darkening sky.

He loved riding his bicycle.

The wind was frosty, sweeping away the words that he was saddled with, cooling down that aching heat. After a while, he hit a long slope. While standing to pedal up the hill, a car coming from behind honked its horn. Although he quickly went to the side, the honking was completely unexpected.

After riding around aimlessly without deciding on a destination, when it was soon time to go back home, a small yellow bird flew out before his eyes. It was a grey wagtail that flew before him as he rode. Although both sides of the road were lined with forest, it glided along the surface of the endless paved road.

Before he knew it, Minato was in an unfamiliar place. The yellow bird disappeared, and in its place, an old sign board reading “Yata Shrine” caught his attention. He stopped his bike before the torii gate, and climbed the stone steps.

This forest was called Yata no Mori, where deciduous trees like pin oaks and Mongolian oaks thrived. Minato looked up, and as if trying to test him, the trees swayed, making a rustling sound. In the dim light, the new sprouts shone, looking like hands clasped together and dedicating prayers up to the sky. The red-violet buds of the mountain azaleas were stiff, and wearing light brown caps. From somewhere faraway, a crying sound could be heard.

After passing through the forest, he arrived at Yata Shrine. There was a cherry tree there, dying the ground beneath in pale pink. The shrine was snug in that old way, and there was no sign of people.

It looks like a place where ghosts would come out… When he thought that, he was startled from hearing a sound.

It’s tsurune, I heard a tsurune—.

From somewhere, he heard a high bang sound.

Like bamboo sprouts shooting up from the earth towards the sky overnight, the sound was carefree and crisp. He couldn’t believe that it was possible to create that metallic-sounding timbre with a bow. It is said that tsurune was the sound made when the bowstring hit the bow after firing an arrow; and the sound that occurred when the arrow left the loosened bowstring and tension returned to the original form of the string, was also considered tsurune.

It overlapped with his old memories. He wondered if it was the same archer that he saw with his mother when he was little, pulling back the bow.

The light was on in the building next to the front shrine.

There was a built-in mailbox at the entrance of the traditional Japanese house, where a signboard hung with the words “Yata no Mori Kyudojo” on it. It was considerably aged, and the wood was corroded and covered in moss. Suppressing his fast-beating heart, he went past the entryway, heading for the right side of the building.

He didn’t think that there would be someone drawing a bow in the forest in the evening. Maybe it really was a ghost. No, it didn’t matter if it was a ghost.

Please don’t disappear.

Don’t disappear until I get there.

While praying that silently in his mind, he passed through the trees, and went around to a corner where outdoor viewing was possible. When he peeked forward through the bamboo fence that acted as a partition, he saw the spacious shajo (building where the archers shoot from) illuminated by fluorescent lamps.

There was a lone young man there, clad in a white kyudogi (2) and hakama.

As expected, it was a different person from the archer he saw back then. The mysterious figure looked like he was in his twenties, and his shoulder-length hair was tied back.

The man nocked an arrow to his bow, then looked to check for any problems with the string or the arrow. He took the string with his right hand, and held the bow with his left. Facing the target, he lifted the bow and arrow with both hands. His stance—like a column of smoke loosely rising up to the sky on a windless day—was textbook perfect.

He pulled back half the length of the arrow and stopped briefly, then pulled it even further back from there. This was the daisan stage (midway point), of the hikiwake. In everyday language, this would be called “drawing back the bow,” but the Japanese yumi was a bow which was lifted up and pushed open equally on both sides.

The climax was called kai. The kai was the term for drawing a bow all the way back to the length that was most suitable for the archer. It was the moment when bow and archer became one, for a long time until the arrow was released. It was the very moment when bow and archer met. In Minato’s eyes, that man was as elegant as an actor performing in a program that was a marvel… As his skin got chills, the arrow was breathed in by the target.

It hit the target right in the center. And what’s more, that wasn’t the only shot. All five of the arrows he had shot before had pierced the target. After that, he finished collecting the arrows and shot six arrows again, all of them hitting the center.

Twelve hits.

If this was a competition, he had won. No, more than just winning, his shots were beautiful. The man placed his bow aside, got into seiza, and took off his yugake, the glove used in kyudo.

When he saw the man going towards the target to collect the arrows again, Minato heaved a big sigh. He rubbed his sweaty palm against his jacket. Wondering whether he should try to call out, he suddenly heard a “Gyaah!” sound above his head, and his body spontaneously shivered.

“…Was that an owl? Don’t get so scared.”

“What are you doing?”

It was a person’s voice.

The man from earlier was standing right in front of him when he had looked back at the strange phenomenon. He had clear eyes, a high nose bridge, a tall stature, and was blessed with a well-balanced body. But he approached me without making a sound, so who the heck is he?

The man wrapped the indigo-dyed hand towel he carried around his left arm, and held it up towards the trees. “Fuu,” he called out, and something with large, spread-out wings flew down, stopping on the man’s arm.

Its flapping created a wind.

Glancing sideways at Minato, who was standing stock-still, the man addressed the being with a heart-shaped face.

“Fuu, you were the one who was more surprised. Who knew there was a person over here.”

“…Excuse me. Um, could ‘Fuu’ be the name of that owl?”

“Yes, it’s a good name, isn’t it? (1) A long time ago, it was injured and I took care of it, and so I gave it that name back then. I had thought about it carefully. Oh, and I did have permission to look after it.”

Is it my imagination, or does that name seem like it was incredibly easy to come up with? It’s better than naming a dog “Bear” at least.

The owls of the true owl family were as big as the falcons used in falconry. Fuu play-bited at the man’s long fingers. When he caressed his mottled wings, it comfortably closed its large eyes.

“It’s really attached to you.”

“It’s more like it got used to me rather than getting attached. It thinks that when I call it, it’ll be able to get food. Today, I called it even though I don’t have any. Sorry, Fuu.”

“Food?”

“Pink mice. Mice that were skinned.”

“I see…”

“Do you want to try touching it? But you are forbidden from making loud sounds. Owls have good ears.”

Doing as he was told, Minato reached out fearfully. When he stroked the feathers on its head, Fuu suddenly shrunk its body, looking like it was withdrawing itself.

“It’s kind of fluffy.”

“Owls can fly noiselessly thanks to their soft feathers. But leaving that aside, you’re bleeding from the back of your left hand.”

“What?”

When he looked, sure enough, blood was welling up. Maybe a branch or something cut him.

“Come with me to get some medicine for that.”

“No, um, I…”

“No way, are you suspicious of me? I’m not going to charge you extra for the medicine, so don’t worry.”

The man narrowed his eyes and grinned.

He followed the man, who seemed like he ruled over the shajo, to there. The judge’s area was at the side of the shajo, with tatami flooring spreading as wide as twelve tatami mats, and the floor one level higher. It was equivalent to the kamiza (higher position) so the household shrine and the national flag were enshrined there. Passing through the judge’s area to the back-right corner, they arrived at the waiting room of the dojo.

The man placed Fuu on Minato’s left shoulder. It was lighter than he had expected, and along with a pleasant weight, Fuu gripped his shoulder tightly. Since its talons weren’t clipped, he’d probably get holes in his clothes. While he was focused on Fuu, the man opened the accessory drawer.

“So, where’s the medicine…ah.”

An unpleasant bang sound rang out, and the contents of the entire drawer flew out. This caused Fuu to tremble with a jump. The man had been trying to retrieve the medicine in the back of the drawer, and pulled it out.

“Oh no, I did it again.”

He said he did it again, so does that mean he pulls open that drawer and cause stuff to fly out a lot?

“Um, are you okay?”

“Yeah. This is because it’s sturdy, unlike the poorly built stuff made nowadays. Oh, there it is.”

The man found a worn-out tube from among the scattered items, and held it out to Minato. He doubted the efficacy of the ointment, which was considerably aged.

While rubbing on the medicine, the exhausted fluorescent lamp flickered. Minato and Fuu looked up at the ceiling, which the man noticed.

“Sorry, your eyes must be pretty irritated. I have a replacement tube but it’s quite a bother. Someone would change it eventually.”

“…I’ll do it.”

Returning Fuu from his shoulder to the man, he took the new fluorescent tube and got out the stepladder in the corner of the room. It was also an antique.

The man spoke in an easy-going way, “Thanks. I always neglect it until it goes out.”

“I think your entire house should have LED lighting installed, so you won’t have to replace it so much, sir”

“Indeed. You’re pretty smart.”

Even though he meant for it to sound sarcastic, it didn’t seem to have gone through at all.

The man went to the edge of the shajo, and shook his arm towards the outdoors. Fuu disappeared into the nighttime forest. After seeing it off, he took out something from his bag.

“Having a drink after work is the best. Here’s a thank-you gift. Go ahead and take it.”

“No thank you. The law states that the drinking age is twenty years old, and if I drink alcohol, my brain will shrink.”

“…You are amazing. I want to compliment you on how honest you are, but just come and take a better look.”

The man was holding a can of coffee with a picture of a snowy mountain on it.

When he finished drinking, he put the can aside and headed for the targets again. He repeated the entire process of shooting the arrows on hand and retrieving them, all over again.

Still holding his can, Minato watched his beautiful movements. He never paid heed to Minato’s watching, nor told him to go home. Before he knew it, the pain of his wound faded away.

He asked him a question when he saw him jotting something down in a notebook.

“How many targets did you hit?”

“I’m not keeping track of how many I hit or miss. Just the number of arrows.”

“How many did you shoot as of now?”

“Eighty.”

“Eighty times? Do you always shoot that much?”

“Yep. I’m shooting a hundred arrows every day, and aiming for a total of ten-thousand arrows. Today’s the seventy-ninth day.”

“What’s your goal?”

“Nothing in particular. Just a whim, so to speak.”

The man narrowed his eyes and smiled his crescent moon-smile again.

A tsurune that glowed against the deep blue heavens (3).

As he placed his feet on the pedals of his bike, the moon was shining above his head.

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#tsurune #tsurune translation

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lisac1965-blog · 6 years

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Destroyer

Summery: After having destroyed worlds for years under Frieza, Vegeta was now content living on Earth with his wife and children. But when tragedy strikes in the divine realm, the Saiyan prince is forced to take his place as the new god of destruction.Will Bulma find a way to get her husband back? And, if so, will he want to come back?Inspired by the artwork of JayJayRey.

Chapter 1

Vegeta stood on the terrace of his home, leaning against the wall as he watched the sparring match between his five year old daughter, Bulla and Kakarott’s granddaughter, Pan, who was just a year older.

Goku was still away training Uub, so the task of grooming the newest generation of Z fighters fell on the Saiyan prince.

The two youngsters were airborne, throwing kicks and punches at each other with more power than grace until Pan gave Bulla a hard kick in the chest.

“You’re leaving yourself wide open, Echalotte,” Vegeta called to his daughter by her Saiyan name. “Remember to keep your soft spots protected.”

“Okay, daddy.” Bulla replied, catching her breath and posing into a position that kept her chest shielded.

Remember your training. It was a warrior's cardinal rule.

And yet, these little ones didn’t understand what it is to be a warrior.

With over a decade of peace, it was uncertain if their descendants would truly be ready if another threat should arise.

This was all a game to them.

Even when Trunks and Goten faced Majin Buu, they cared more about showing off than ending the pink monster.

Vegeta longed for the days when he was in constant battle with foe after foe. When he could be a true warrior. When he could indulge in the heat of battle and tear his enemies apart and spill their blood without shame or restraint.

It wasn’t that his family didn’t give him contentment. On the contrary, he would gladly give his life for them. But nothing compared to the rush of battle he once knew so long ago.

And he knew that was something these spoiled brats would never understand.

It worried him.

“Pan, your mother called,” Bulma said as she stepped outside. “She says it’s time to go home for lunch.”

“Aw, can’t we spar some more?” Bulla groaned.

“Yeah, can we?” Vegeta teased, making his wife giggle.

“It’s okay,” Pan said. “I’m hungry, anyway.”

The two friends bid each other goodbye as Pan left and Bulla landed on the terrace in front of her mother.

“I’m hungry too, mommy.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Bulma said as she stroked her daughter’s blue hair that matched her own. “I’ll have lunch ready soon.”

“Yeah!” Bulla cheered as she dashed inside.

“You really are an old softy, aren’t you?” Bulma said, teasing her husband, who grunted and shrugged in reply.

“What, no rebuttal?” she smirked. “You usually hate it when I call you that.”

Vegeta sighed. “Maybe I have gotten soft.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Bulma said, quirking her brow.

And for a Saiyan warrior, it was a bad thing.

A Saiyan was to be battle ready at all times. To be hard and merciless. To triumph, even if it cost him everything.

But his family was his life now. His motivation to keep getting stronger so he could keep them safe.

And being soft didn’t do them any favors.

Vegeta was pulled from his thoughts when he saw Whis materialize next to him, flanked by a young female Kai.

“Greetings, Vegeta, Bulma, it’s been far too long.”

“Whis?” Bulma said in surprise before turning to Vegeta. “You didn’t tell me you were going off to train again already.”

“I’m not,” Vegeta countered. “I have no idea why he’s here.”

“I am here because we have important matters to discuss,” Whis said. “Quite preferably over a meal.”

“Well, then, you’re just in time,” Bulma said. “I was about to serve lunch. You and your friend are more than welcome to join us.”

“Oh, yes. Please, do forgive me for not introducing you sooner.” Whis glanced over to his companion. “This is Supreme Kai, Miku,” he said as she bowed in greeting.

“Supreme Kai?” Bulma asked, confused.

“What happened to Shin?” Vegeta queried. “Did he retire or something?”

“I’m afraid the situation is more dire than that,” Whis somberly replied. “Kaioshin is dead.”

“What?!” Bulma gasped.

“How is that possible?!” Vegeta asked, just as shocked.

“I will explain as we dine,” Whis answered. Of course, he would want to eat first, even in circumstances like these.

Still reeling from the news, Bulma went to finish preparing lunch and served her family and guests outside.

“A small group of aliens breached our realm,” Miku recalled as they ate. “One of them restrained me and another fired on Kaioshin with a weapon of some kind.”

“And where were Kibido and Elder Kai?” Vegeta asked.

“Taking a walk,” Miku replied.

“I don’t get it,” Trunks chimed in. “How could anyone kill someone as powerful as the Supreme Kai? As I recall, Piccolo wouldn’t even fight him in the World Martial Arts Tournament.”

“They did have the element of surprise,” Whis figured. “And Shin was never one to resort to violence unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“But wouldn’t he still have a body and a halo?” Bulma asked.

“I used my magic to see for myself what had happened,” Whis answered. “The alien shot him twice.”

“Causing him to cease from existence,” Vegeta concluded.

“Precisely,” Whis said.

“I also remember the alien apologizing to Kaioshin before he shot him,” Miku said. “I thought that was kind of strange.”

“I do not believe Kaioshin was the intended target, mistress,” Whis told her. “Lord Beerus destroyed half their planet a few years ago. I believe it was he who was targeted.”

“Now, wait, I’m confused,” Vegeta admitted. “Why would they have taken their act of vengeance against Beerus out on an innocent party like Shin?”

“Lord Beerus and Kaioshin’s lives were connected,” Whis said. “So, killing the one resulted in the other’s demise.”

“Wait,” Bulma said, taken aback. “Beerus is dead, too?”

“Indeed,” Whis answered. “Sorry I neglected to mention that.”

“So, they went for the soft target to do away with Beerus, then,” Vegeta surmised.

“What’s a ‘soft target?’” Bulla asked, hearing their conversation but not really understanding it.

“It’s the target easiest to hit,” her father explained.

“Kaioshin and I were talking about his life link with lord Beerus just before the aliens came,” Miku recalled. “Almost as if on cue. I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence.”

“If they possess technology that can breach our realm, then perhaps they used something similar to spy on our worlds,” Whis theorized. “The question is how they knew where to find us.”

“I’m done,” Bulla chirped. “Can I watch a movie, mommy?”

“Yes, you may,” Bulma answered before turning to her son. “Sweetie, would you mind helping your sister?”

“Sure,” Trunks said as he stood. “Come on, squirt,” he told Bulla as the two of them took their dishes and went inside.

“Alright, Whis, spill it!” Vegeta ordered. “I know you didn’t have to come all this way to break the news to us about Shin and Beerus. So, why are you really here?”

“You are quite perceptive, Vegeta,” Whis observed. “And, yes, there is another matter we must discuss.

“You see, Miku here was Kaioshin’s apprentice, so she was able to take his place when he died. Unfortunately, lord Beerus had no apprentice. So, I had to go to the Omni Kings and ask who they wish to replace him.”

“And, what does that have to do with me?” Vegeta asked.

Nearly a full minute lapsed before Whis looked him in the eye and answered.

“They chose you, Vegeta.”

The Saiyan prince and his wife both gasped in shock.

“Ve… Vegeta’s... the new god of destruction?” Bulma questioned.

“He is,” Whis replied.

Vegeta sat there, frozen, nauseated, head swimming. How could this even be happening?! Had he been told this twenty years ago, he would have accepted it without hesitation. But, now, he had too much to loose because of it.

“Well… I…” Bulma stammered to her husband, who’s face had now gone pale. “I… guess you’re finally getting what you wanted, huh? I mean, you’ll have immorality and can blow up whatever planet you want, not that I’m happy about that part, but-”

“You don’t understand, woman!” Vegeta snapped. “A god of destruction cannot have any personal attachments whatsoever. If I can’t get out of this, I’ll have to leave Earth… leave you… for good!”

“What?!” Bulma screeched before turning back to Whis. “You can’t expect him to uproot himself, just like that!”

“That’s right!” Vegeta exclaimed as he stood, placing his hands on the table and leaning into Whis’s face, heart ramming into his chest, blood boiling. “I have a life, a family here. I can’t just abandon them! So, you can tell the Omni Kings I said thanks but no thanks. I’m not going!”

“I’m afraid this isn’t optional, Vegeta,” Whis stated.

“And why not?” he asked as he plopped back into his chair and folded his arms. “If you need a new destroyer god so bad, why not have Frieza do it? He has more experience blowing up planets than I do.”

“He also lacks the training and discipline and cannot be trusted with that kind of power,” Whis said.

“Then, what about Toppo? He’s already a destroyer god candidate.”

“Toppo is from universe eleven and can only serve in universes eleven and two.”

“Then, isn’t there anyone in universe six who can do it?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Whis admitted.

“Then, can’t you find out?” By this time, Vegeta was sweating, his rage giving way to panic.

“Even if I did it wouldn’t matter,” Whis said. “The point is that it’s the will of the Omni Kings.”

“And, if I refuse?” Vegeta asked, desperate.

“Then, your universe will be terminated,” Whis said.

“Better than having to spend eternity without my family!”

“Think about what you’re saying, Vegeta,” Miku interjected. “Would you really want your entire universe destroyed over this?”

“Yes,” Whis added. “Especially after you fought so hard, even risked your own life to protect it in the Tournament of Power? Even you have to admit, it’s a bit rash.”

They were both right. It was irrational at best.

There was nothing more to be said. Vegeta made all the arguments he could and was nowhere near getting out of this situation. He had no other choice but to resign himself to his fate.

Unless…

“I’d like a moment with my wife, please,” he requested.

“Of course,” Miku said as Whis nodded.

Vegeta got up and took Bulma aside while the other two stood and prepared for departure.

“Gather the dragon balls,” the Saiyan prince instructed his wife, his hands on her shoulders. “Wish Beerus and Shin back to life. Then, I can come home”

Bulma nodded.

They stood there, reluctant to part, until Bulma threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. Not one for public displays of affection, Vegeta grabbed her arms and pulled his face back in front of hers.

“This isn’t goodbye!” he ground out through gritted teeth.

Vegeta could literally feel his world being pulled out from under him, like a trapdoor leading into a bottomless pit. And he desperately tried to push down the lump in his throat, the tears that threatened to fall, the clenching of his heart, as he and his wife stood, eyes fixed on each other for another minute or two.

Then, reluctantly, painfully, Vegeta turned and walked over to where Whis and Miku were waiting as he tried to conceal the ache within him.

Bulma stood there, watching him go as silent tears spilled from her eyes.

He took one last look at her before placing his hand on Whis’s back, then dematerialized.

o-o-o-o-o

Whis was heading towards the Kai world to drop off Miku, who looked behind her before whispering into his ear.

“Uh… Whis… um, wasn’t there, uh, something we… you know… overlooked?”

“Don’t worry, mistress,” Whis answered discretely, hoping Vegeta wouldn’t hear them. “I have everything under control.”

#Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character DeathBulma Briefs/VegetaVegeta (Dragon Ball) Bulma Briefs OC - Character Whis (Dragon Ball)Go

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josephkitchen0 · 7 years

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Adding New Dogs Into an Existing Livestock Guardian Dog Pack

By Brenda M. Negri

In my previous article (“The Aging LGD: Caring for Senior Livestock Guardian Dogs,” sheep!, September/October, 2017, p. 36), we saw how important it is to bring in younger dogs to replace elder Livestock Guardian Dogs (LGD) before “old timers” get past their prime.

Many operators incorrectly start their LGD experience by purchasing, training, and using just one dog at a time. They usually find out sooner than later, they should have bought two dogs or more to start. To be used successfully as guardians of livestock, LGDs should be run in pairs or more.

A ravenous wolf pack or bear will make a short order meal of just one LGD. Bottom line: There’s strength in numbers.

Eventually the shepherd realizes he must add more dogs but often is afraid to, or confused on how best to do it.

I’ve run as many as 25 adult LGDs at one time. That’s an exceptional number of dogs to be running together safely and cohesively as a family pack. It has offered me a wonderful opportunity to learn about canine pack life, canine body language and understand dogs more deeply.

In my dog pack, lactating females will often assist in babysitting litters and allow pups from another litter to suckle them. Puppies mingle with adults and other litters. There’s very little conflict and no separation of dogs in a well-adjusted pack.

This depth of intermingling is similar to what’s seen in wolf packs. It only comes about when a domestic dog pack is a content and confident family unit. That comes about when owners, in the role of pack “parent” and leader, trust their dogs.

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The Pack as a Unit

A pack provides support, security and psychological and physical development for growing pups. It also provides safety for all, from newborn pups to aged, elderly dogs. The shepherd must understand that the groundwork for adding a new canine to an established LGD pack begins with preparation that starts long before the new pup arrives.

The biggest problem I see with LGD owners today is that they’re afraid to trust their dogs. One often fails to grasp the true nature of a Livestock Guardian Dog breed, good specimens of which are highly intelligent, perceptive and work heavily off of their innate nurturing instinct. They don’t need constant obedience commands and direction from the owner.

It’s all too natural for human beings to feel responsible and to micro-manage and over-control one’s guardian dogs by issuing commands for the simplest tasks. A command to go through a gate for example, instead of using direct, simple body language that would facilitate the action in an easier, straightforward manner: If we fail to trust the dog, the dog never trusts us. It’s a vicious circle and causes confusion, multiple training issues, and other problems.

An older Great Pyrenees male tolerates and protects a young Pyrenean Mastiff pup. Acceptance like this from an adult male is the norm in a stable, family pack of LGDs.

Dog Adding Tips

From years of experience, here are my tips on how to successfully add new pups or adult dogs to an established pack of LGDs:

1. Buy and use only legitimate LGD breeds.—This cannot be stressed enough. Purchase only legitimate LGD breeds or crosses of LGD breeds. Not much need be said about this obvious fact to the experienced or lifelong shepherd, who knows what “real” LGDs are—and what they aren’t.

However, there are squadrons of relative neophytes in for example, the hobby farming world who are convinced their “Samoyed x Great Pyrenees cross” or “Labrador x Chow cross” is a “legit” LGD. They aren’t. And they can pose serious threats to livestock because of prey drive and lack of guarding instinct.

Risky crosses like those and others have no place in a guardian dog pack and cause more problems than they solve.

2. Respect the dog family pack dynamic.—A healthy, working dog pack is a family. It’s not stagnant. It changes through aging, births, and deaths. That’s what makes adding a pup or an older dog possible and totally natural. It’s not based on an “alpha” ruling the pack.

3. The shepherd as pack parent and leader, not “alpha.”—The “pack parent” (that is, the owner, who is also the leader) sets the tone that will determine if this is a content, confident, well-adjusted family pack of solid, balanced dogs, or a dysfunctional family of frightened, confused dogs, afraid of their own shadows, afraid to be touched by humans, and suspicious of and aggressive towards any new additions. (Recommended reading material at the end of this article has a lot to say about this).

4. Owner as wise, benevolent leader.—A strong pack leader doesn’t bully or raise his voice. He speaks to his dogs in a normal tone. A strong pack leader is calm, confident, quiet and respectful. There are no “alpha rolls” or the use of cruel gimmicks like PVC pipe “yokes” or shock collars.

Adding to a pack can be done with little if any drama and stress when a shepherd practices compassionate and magnanimous leadership. It’s important to be a part of their pack family, not a harsh disciplinarian who only commands and rebukes.

5. Understand and correctly interpret canine body language; learn how to use it to communicate with your dogs.—Body language, tone of voice and facial expressions from the shepherd will be what sends the right (and wrong) signals to dogs.

Shepherds need to learn to understand their dogs’ body language and be mindful of the signals sent by their dogs and by themselves.

Don’t know about canine body language? It is fascinating. Learn about it, because understanding it can make all the difference between failure and success with LGDs.

Books highly recommended for learning about canine body language are included at the end of this article.

6. Importance of patience and trust.—Give all dogs time to adjust. And be willing to adjust expectations. Be flexible and understanding.

This means letting go of controlling and micromanaging every move the pup or the pack makes during introductions. Let the dogs show what they can do on their own. Give the dogs the freedom to move around and send the right body language to each other in order to effect a calm introduction with the new addition.

Many people fail to trust their dogs, and by not trusting their dogs, in turn their dogs do not trust them.

The shepherd must trust his dogs, and the dogs must trust the shepherd, or it is all for naught. Remember LGDs are independent thinkers of a nurturing nature, that by instinct protect stock from predators. Learn to trust that instinct.

7. Timing is everything; bring the new dog in on a calm day with as few distractions going on as possible.—Choose a day when the weather is calm (i.e., no howling winds, extreme heat or cold, storms, etc.). Pick a day for introductions that is not rife with special projects, visitors to the farm, drama or work pressure. Choose the best time of the day, based on when dogs are rested and not overly exhausted from working.

8. Chose an open area in which to make introductions.—Dogs will feel uneasy and trapped in a small, closed-in area and may have the urge to flee. Bring the new pup or dog into an open space area of the front yard or barnyard that’s open and clear when bringing in the new pup to greet the pack. Don’t begin introductions against a building or a wall or in a corner. Make sure that any dog in the pack can easily move away or leave at leisure without running into a closed gate or a wall that impedes its exit.

9. Sit down.—One of the most efficient ways to show dogs calm and trust is to use the right body language. Grab a chair and sit down in the open area during introductions; this powerful calming signal will assist in relaxing the pack and the owner.

10. Let the pack come to the new addition.—Don’t take the pup to the pack. Let your existing dogs come to the new pup on their own time and terms. Most dogs will immediately, if not very soon, come investigate a newcomer in their world. 11. If a reprimand is needed, try my “Mr. Miyagi grunt.”—In the popular movie The Karate Kid, Pat Morita plays Mr. Miyagi, the humble, unassuming black belt karate master who teaches his protégé, “Daniel-san” the martial arts. I have a special way of rebuking my dogs here, a deep, short guttural growl, or as I refer to it, “my Mr. Miyagi Grunt”—the deep guttural noise Morita made in the movie when admonishing Daniel-san.

Learn how to tell a dog it has done the wrong thing by using what I call “the hard eye”: Staring firmly at the dog, in the eyes, with a hard gaze. Combined with the guttural grunt, my dogs know this means business and stop immediately what they are doing that merited the scolding.

12. Adult dog additions to an established pack are where the owner’s calmness, trust, and previous groundwork will pay off.—I reinforce trust in my dogs by letting the new dog intermingle with the pack immediately. No separation for hours, days or weeks, no tethering up and no kenneling apart from the pack. This requires trust on the part of the shepherd.

Learn to let go and trust; for some operators, this is very difficult to do, but makes all the difference in the world. Do not micromanage or try to control every move the adult dog makes.

Understand that ritualized aggression—that is, play-type aggressive behavior that’s played out under strict rules of engagement within a pack of dogs, only goes so far. Allow pack members to exercise this right. If aggression between the pack members and the new dog goes too far, step in with “the hard eye” and a “Mr. Miyagi grunt”.

13. Once the new LGD has met the pack and it is obvious they are accepting the new addition, allow the new dog to accompany the others to livestock.—The owner needs to go into the livestock with the pack.

Take a walk with the pack around the perimeter of the paddock or field. Do this at least once daily, preferably more, so the new addition understands what its new turf is and knows that the shepherd is part of the team.

Encourage the new pup when it shows affection with livestock, with positive reinforcement. Keep it casual, let the dog meander and explore with pack members.

Fresh from Spain, a Spanish Mastiff pup is allowed to mingle with a litter of Pyrenean Mastiff puppies, and several adults. She adapted immediately.

Summary

The shepherd’s current pack of dogs and how they were raised from puppyhood will dictate success or struggle in bringing in new pups and dogs. The time to begin planning for new arrivals is before the operator needs more dogs—not the day they arrive.

Build that foundation of trust with patience and respect.

Take the time to learn and use canine body language and how to communicate using physical signals to dogs.

By doing advance work, the shepherd can make adding dogs to an existing pack a “non-event” instead of a stressful drama.

Recommended Reading

• Canine Behavior: A Photo Illustrated Handbook, by Barbara Handelman, M.Ed. CDBC, Woof and Word Press.

• On Talking Terms With Dogs: Calming Signals, by Turid Rugaas, Dogwise Publications.

• The Truth About Wolves and Dogs: Dispelling The Myths of Dog Training, by Toni Shelbourne, Hubble & Hattie Press.

• De-Bunking the Alpha Dog Theory: Exerting “dominance” over your dog is the wrong way to build a good relationship, by Pat Miller, CBCC-KA, CPDT-KA, CDBC, Whole Dog Journal, December 2011.

• “The Numbers Game: Guardian Dog Pack Size Affects Success,” by Brenda M. Negri, sheep!, May/June, 2013, pp. 50-52.

Originally published in the November/December 2017 issue of sheep!.

Adding New Dogs Into an Existing Livestock Guardian Dog Pack was originally posted by All About Chickens

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howwerun · 7 years

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Your Enemy is Your Neighbor

The United States seems to be experiencing a more public split than at any other time in my life (I turned 30 this month). My parents and grandparents may have experienced similar, if not far more intense, things, but for people in my generation and younger, everything that's happening politically and socially in our country right now is probably the closest thing to a civil war we've ever experienced. This is truer in some places than others, particularly those places where disagreements have turned into violence, or where racism and ethnocentrism and religious aggression are displayed openly. Still, the effects from those places ripple across the entire nation, and fear and anger and hatred are welling up in people who sympathize with one side or the other. And, while I would love to say that Christians have risen above such things, the reality is that we're right in the thick of it, on both sides. There are as many outspoken Christians justifying acts of hatred, fear, and prejudice with Scripture as there are Christians condemning such actions. We are as quick to judge and make rash decisions as anyone else, and the world will hold us more accountable for it. I know many people who have lost friends and had relationships destroyed over what's happening. I know people who have been persecuted or had family members and loved ones persecuted simply for being who they are. I have seen the fear in people's eyes and heard the hatred in their voices, and I have seen the confusion and dangerous acceptance in our children. So, I want to revisit what I believe is one of the most powerful passages, for believers, in the New Testament. I want to examine, with you, how God calls us out of our narrow worldview and commands us to take up a new position, a new stance, that is opposed to fear, rage, and hatred, because I believe that if Christians cannot master this one thing, we will only succeed in hurting the Kingdom and making the world a worse place.

Love Your Enemies...

43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? 47 And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Matthew 5:43-48, NIV

Love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you. This is such a fantastic passage. I think this is one of the most important ideas in the whole Bible. Understanding this passage isn't just about obeying a command to love and pray for people, it gives us powerful insight into the nature of God. I think people understate the significance of what Jesus is saying here, and I think that has a lot to do with how we understand the word "enemy."

The problem with thinking of our enemies as enemies is that it interferes with our loving them as human beings created in the image of God. What Jesus is pushing us toward is not just love for our enemies. It's an actual shift in our perspective. He draws a parallel between our neighbors and our enemies. "Love your neighbor as yourself" is a command his audience would have been very familiar with, and Jesus says, "Love your enemies." You have heard it said, "Love your neighbor, and hate your enemies," but I'm telling you that your enemy is actually your neighbor, and those who persecute you require your prayers. So, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, and in this, you are made perfect in love as your heavenly father is perfect.

When I used to train in martial arts, we tried not to refer to anyone as our enemy. We used the word "opponent" for hypothetical situations, because the word opponent implies disagreement and opposition or resistance. The word enemy implies hostility. While an opponent may be openly hostile, we didn't want to feed on that hostility, and we certainly didn't want to assume hostility. What I noticed was that the more time a person spent imagining an enemy, hostility and all, the more likely they were to become angry and impulsive in their training, which is dangerous for everyone. Imagine how much more out of control they would become in a real confrontation. We did our best to avoid that even more in real life practice, where we didn't even want to use the term opponent for anyone in the room. We were all partners, even when we were fighting each other. It re-defined how we approached training. My goal is not simply to overcome you; I'm here to help you better understand yourself, even if that leads you to eventually overcoming me.

In the military, they use this concept to the opposite effect. Instead of nurturing empathy, they intentionally distance soldiers from their opponents as much as possible. They are always the enemy. They are always unified, not individualized. They are almost always given a nickname, which is often used in a derogatory way. Psychology studies have shown us that human beings don't like to kill each other, despite popular belief. In fact, humans are more resistant to killing humans than almost anything else that we do, so when soldiers are created, they make a conscious effort to overcome those psychological barriers. And, we know from decades of psychological studies, and thousands of years of experience, that how they talk about the enemy affects how they deal with the enemy.

Do you understand how the language we use and the position we take in our meditation and in our imagination can affect the way we act in practical application? How we imagine the world to be has a profound impact on how we act toward the world. Jesus doesn't just call us to be kind to our enemies; he calls us to an entirely new worldview.

The Good Samaritan

25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

Luke 10:25-37, NIV

Notice, in verse 36, that Jesus doesn't ask, "Who is the Samaritan's neighbor?" Instead, he asks, "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The question is posed from the injured man's perspective. not the Samaritan’s, and in verse 37, the expert in the law answers, "The one who had mercy on him," which Jesus implies is correct.

Who our neighbor is depends on who we show love to. Most people approach the command “love your neighbor as yourself” in the same way as the expert in the law: who is my neighbor? If I can identify who my neighbors are, then I’ll know who to love. Jesus doesn’t do that; he says, essentially, which of the three men passing by chose to be a neighbor to the injured man? The difference is this: instead of asking, “Who is my neighbor,” we ought to be asking, “Who have I loved?” When the question is dependent on us, all of the burden of responsibility falls on us. If someone is my not my neighbor, it is because I have not chosen to love them. Moreover, Jesus commands him to "go and do likewise." Now, Jesus puts us on the spot: if we thought we could simply turn a blind eye and pick and choose our neighbors, we should think again. The command is to go and do what the Samaritan did: make someone your neighbor without any clear personal gain. Love people for no particular reason, whenever the opportunity arises.

In Romans 12, Paul makes a similar plea.

Overcome Evil with Good

19 Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. 20 On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Romans 12:19-21, NIV

Do we try to do good for one another, for our brothers and sisters? Of course we do. We do good for the ones we care about, those closest to us, the ones we feel love for. Paul says not only should we do that, we ought to do good for our enemies.

A lot of people like to focus on the line, “In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Let’s make something clear: if we do good for our enemies so that it will “heap burning coals on his head,” we are acting out of a vengeful spirit, not a loving one. That attitude would be the opposite of what Paul is advocating. In verse 19, he plainly states, “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.”

The emphasis is not on the burning coals. The emphasis is on verse 21, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” In other words, we ought to be doing good for everyone, loving everyone, even our enemies, and Jesus says that in our doing good for others, we determine who our neighbors are. It is our mercy toward others that defines who our neighbors are, and we ought to be including everyone in that. Understanding this idea that our neighbor is anyone we choose to love, let's re-examine Matthew 5:43-48.

Your Enemy is Your Neighbor

Matthew 5:43-48, NIV

“Love your neighbor, and hate your enemy” cannot work, because our neighbor ought to be everyone. Since we choose who our neighbors are by how we love them, and since we ought be doing good for enemies, everyone ought to be our neighbor. Who is there left to hate?

“But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” Moreover, “love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you" is a part of our identity as children of God. It actually embodies everything that God does for us, which Paul points out in Romans 5:8-10.

8 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

9 Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! 10 For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!

Romans 5:8-10

“While we were still sinners...God’s enemies,” God chose to love us and reconcile us to Himself through the death of Christ. He did for us exactly what Jesus commands us to do: love our enemies.

In fact, remember the conversation just before the parable of the Good Samaritan:

25b “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

Luke 10:25b-28

The path to eternal life involves two things: loving God and loving your neighbor. Your enemy is your neighbor, and if we can't get to a place where we stop thinking of people as our enemies and start thinking of them as our neighbors, we're going to have a very difficult time with loving them.

Consider Jesus's crucifixion in Luke 23.

26 As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. 27 A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. 28 Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. 29 For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the childless women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ 30 Then

“‘they will say to the mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills, “Cover us!”’

31 For if people do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

Luke 23:26-31

Even on his way out of the city to be nailed to a cross, Jesus's heart goes out to others. He warns the women of the coming suffering and tells them not to weep for him; he wasn't saying, "woe is me." Matthew 26 and 27 tell us that by this point, Jesus had already been abandoned by all of his disciples; spit on, beaten, and mocked by the Sanhedrin, as well as being accused of blasphemy; beaten by the Sanhedrin guards, disowned by Peter, flogged, stripped of his clothes and made to dress up, crowned with thorns, mocked, and beaten some more. As if that weren't enough, Luke 10:32-33 tell us that after everything, they crucified him between two criminals, at least one of whom also mocked him, according to the other gospels, along with the Jewish leaders, while he's hanging there dying on a cross! Yet, in Luke10:34a, Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” In the midst of all of that, Jesus cries out to God, not on his own behalf, but on there's.

Christians Against Christians

I want to offer one last thought to meditate on: these ideas don't just apply to believers and non-believers. They apply to anyone and everyone in every context, including other congregations. I am often astonished at the amount of distance that Christians place between themselves and other Christians by doing exactly what the military does with their soldiers. We create categories that make it easy to label “us” and “them.” We lump other Christians into convenient, unified groups, like Baptist, Catholic, Church of Christ, Presbyterian... Some may argue that Christians place those labels on themselves, which is true, but we then use those labels in derogatory ways against each other; they don't just identify a person's place of worship. More often than not, we're calling to attention all of the things they believe that we think are wrong. “Those Baptists...” “Those Catholics...” “Those Church of Christers...” When we talk about Christians who believe something different than us, who have an opposing interpretation of some part of Scripture, it's often simply to point out differences between us and them. Yes, Baptist churches have a unifying creed that defines them as Baptist churches, but the members of those churches are individual people with as much variation in actual beliefs, perspectives, and worldviews as any other group of people. What’s more, we disguise this distancing language and distancing attitude as Scriptural purity, when really it's rarely more than interpretive superiority. We feel that our interpretations of scripture are correct; that’s why we believe them. Therefore, opposing interpretations are incorrect, by default. This is a foolish assumption of superiority.

Don't be deceived: there is selfishness and resentment toward other sects in every congregation I have ever been a part of, because, at the very least, I know I have been a part of it, and I am not proud of that. I have been to churches of many different denominations, and I have rarely, if ever, heard congregations refer to other denominations out of love and unity. I've also heard such things from the children, which suggests to me that they've heard it from us.

This is not okay, and today, more than ever before for young Christians, we need to strive for unity in our Father, unity in our belief that Jesus Christ was the son of God, who died for our sins and was raised from the dead, and unity in the Spirit. Now, more than ever for young Christians, the church, singular, needs to take a stance of love toward our neighbors. All of them.

There will always be people hostile toward others because of skin color, religious beliefs, gender, sexual orientation, ancestry... You name it, and there are people prejudiced against it. But, God calls us to completely reshape our worldview, and to take up a position of love where we choose to love every single person the way that God has loved us, to stop distancing ourselves from people with our language and our thoughts.

This week, I am challenging myself, and I invite you join me in this challenge: to make a list of every person or group of people who has ever been hostile toward you or who believes in something that you think is wrong, hateful, or built on fear and pray for them every day. It could be your boss, your coworkers, some protest group on the other side of the country... It could even be members of your own family; there are a lot of broken families in America. But let’s challenge ourselves to stop thinking of anyone as our enemy and start thinking of everyone as our neighbor.

#love #christianity #god #jesus #loveyourenemies #loveyourneighbor #maturity #matthew5 #luke10 #romans5 #luke23 #romans12 #gospel #thegospel #unity

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josephkitchen0 · 7 years

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Adding New Dogs

By Brenda M. Negri

Many operators incorrectly start their LGD experience by purchasing, training and using just one dog at a time. They usually find out sooner than later, they should have bought two dogs or more to start. To be used successfully as guardians of livestock, LGDs should be run in pairs or more.

A ravenous wolf pack or bear will make a short order meal of just one LGD. Bottom line: There’s strength in numbers.

Eventually the shepherd realizes he must add more dogs but often is afraid to, or confused on how best to do it.

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The Pack as a Unit

An older Great Pyrenees male tolerates and protects a young Pyrenean Mastiff pup. Acceptance like this from an adult male is the norm in a stable, family pack of LGDs.

Dog Adding Tips

From years of experience, here are my tips on how to successfully add new pups or adult dogs to an established pack of LGDs:

However there are squadrons of relative neophytes in for example, the hobby farming world who are convinced their “Samoyed x Great Pyrenees cross” or “Labrador x Chow cross” is a “legit” LGD. They aren’t. And they can pose serious threats to livestock because of prey drive and lack of guarding instinct.

Risky crosses like those and others have no place in a guardian dog pack and cause more problems than they solve.

2. Respect the dog family pack dynamic.—A healthy, working dog pack is a family. It’s not stagnant. It changes through aging, births and deaths. That’s what makes adding a pup or an older dog possible and totally natural. It’s not based on an “alpha” ruling the pack.

3. The shepherd as pack parent and leader, not “alpha.”—The “pack parent” (that is, the owner, who is also the leader) sets the tone that will determine if this is a content, confident, well adjusted family pack of solid, balanced dogs, or a dysfunctional family of frightened, confused dogs, afraid of their own shadows, afraid to be touched by humans, and suspicious of and aggressive towards any new additions. (Recommended reading material at the end of this article has a lot to say about this).

Shepherds need to learn to understand their dogs’ body language and be mindful of the signals sent by their dogs and by themselves.

Don’t know about canine body language? It is fascinating. Learn about it, because understanding it can make all the difference between failure and success with LGDs.

Books highly recommended for learning about canine body language are included at the end of this article.

6. Importance of patience and trust.—Give all dogs time to adjust. And be willing to adjust expectations. Be flexible and understanding.

Many people fail to trust their dogs, and by not trusting their dogs, in turn their dogs do not trust them.

10. Let the pack come to the new addition.—Don’t take the pup to the pack. Let your existing dogs come to the new pup on their own time and terms. Most dogs will immediately, if not very soon, come investigate a new comer in their world. 11. If a reprimand is needed, try my “Mr. Miyagi grunt.”—In the popular movie The Karate Kid, Pat Morita plays Mr. Miyagi, the humble, unassuming black belt karate master who teaches his protégé, “Daniel-san” the martial arts. I have a special way of rebuking my dogs here, a deep, short guttural growl, or as I refer to it, “my Mr. Miyagi Grunt”—the deep guttural noise Morita made in the movie when admonishing Daniel-san.

Learn to let go and trust; for some operators this is very difficult to do, but makes all the difference in the world. Do not micromanage or try to control every move the adult dog makes.

Encourage the new pup when it shows affection with livestock, with positive reinforcement. Keep it casual, let the dog meander and explore with pack members.

Fresh from Spain, a Spanish Mastiff pup is allowed to mingle with a litter of Pyrenean Mastiff puppies, and several adults. She adapted immediately.

Summary

Build that foundation of trust with patience and respect.

Take the time to learn and use canine body language and how to communicate using physical signals to dogs.

By doing advance work, the shepherd can make adding dogs to an existing pack a “non-event” instead of a stressful drama.