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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Welcome To Backwater ch.2 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch isn’t running away, not really.

He took the bus.

Only to end up in a little town in the middle of nowhere, meeting unusual people, dealing with unexpected happenings, what the hell is going on in this place?

Content: Spicyhoney, Midwest Gothic

Note: Just as a heads up, I'd give this story a warning for mild horror and mild gore. None of our boys, but better to let y'all know!

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Read Chapter Two ‘Meet and Greet’ on AO3

Read it here!

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For the next week Stretch spent most of his time trying to figure out the method in the madness to Red’s store management. His first day of ‘training’ pretty much consisted of Red showing up long enough to demo the cash register and then shuffling off to the apartment at the back where he lived. Not that pushing a couple of numbered buttons was that complicated, but that wasn’t the only issue cropping up around here along with the local corn.

First of all, nothing in the shop was priced. All the items were recorded in a ragged notebook with coffee ring stains on the cover, where Stretch got to figure out if an item fell under the category of ‘toilet paper’, ‘paper, toilet’, ‘ass wipers’, or ‘shitty ass wipers’, all written in Red’s sloppy handwriting. The sheer number of items that fell under ‘ass’ and ‘shitty’ were staggering.

Turned out, the little store actually did a fair amount of business. Plenty of Humans stopped in to pick up one or two things rather than drive to the nearest Wally World which according to Granny Collemore, who Stretch was guessing was the unofficial town gossip, was better than a thirty-minute drive away.

“Don’t need to be driving an hour for a little bum tissue,” she bellowed happily, “shopping day is Sunday, we’ll stock up then!”

Stretch nodded as he rang her up, wincing away from her volume. He’d figured out pretty quickly that the old woman was stone deaf, but she didn’t seem to care if all she got was a smile and plenty of nods, so that was fine.

She handed over a wad of cash pulled from a little embroidered change purse that let out a puff of lavender so strong when she opened it that it overshadowed the store’s normal musty smell, hollering the whole time. By the time she left, Stretch knew enough about the local weather patterns to make a rain prediction and that the way someone named Pritchard was hamming on a pretty young’un Eloise meant they’d best they be married soon ‘fore it turned into a shotgun wedding. He nodded along with every proclamation, hurrying around the counter to open the door for her and ended up spending five minutes waiting for her to shuffle her way out, her bunny slippers leading the way.

But as she was leaving, she reached up and gave him a gentle pat on the cheekbone, her wrinkled hand barely able to reach. “You’re a nice boy,” she told him, too loud and with a pink, gummy smile.

Stretch was too startled to flinch away and only managed to mumble a thank you as she headed off into the growing heat of the morning, a hunched figure in a flowery dress and pink slippers, her bag of emergency tp bumping against her hip as she trundled along.

That was another thing. He’d thought that the Humans around here would be distrustful, even malicious, but that wasn’t proving to be the case. Aside from a little surprise when they first saw him, all the customers so far were small-town kindly. Kids came into the shop to raid the nickel-candy rack, their bikes left in piles outside as excited groups came roaring in. Mothers came in with babies wearing only their diapers, fanning themselves and laughing out their, ‘my, isn’t it a hot one today?’ as they bought a half-gallon of milk and some fresh apples to put in the bottom of their strollers.

No one in town seemed to care that he was a Monster past asking his name and maybe it was just ‘cause of Red being a skeleton, too. Could be that Granny Collemore was out there somewhere bellowing that the local shopkeeper had family visiting, who knew? It was sure different than he was used to. The general sentiment in Ebott about Monsters was resentment; over them taking jobs, enrolling in the schools, whatever it was, they didn’t want Monsters doing it.

It was…nice, he decided, to not have someone dislike him on sight.

That was how he spent his mornings. He worked in the shop, idly dusting, putting away the deliveries that a guy in the pickup truck and overalls brought in daily, and borrowing Red’s wifi to listen to soft music on his phone. The calls had trickled to only once a day and the glaring red alert number of his messages kept climbing.

Stretch didn’t look at them, only skipped right over to Spotify and the 'The Wedding Singer Divorce Special pt 2' playlist.

Red came in every day to relieve him at around two. He grunted out something that resembled a hello as he heaved himself up on the stool, leaning his cane against it as he pulled out a battered romance novel from beneath the counter. The creased covered did not in the slightest hide the young, scantily-clad woman caught up in a fiery embrace with her highland Lord.

“be back later,” Stretch said as he hung up his apron. Not that it mattered, wasn’t like Red was his dad or even a friend, not really, and he didn’t care when Stretch came home. A couple times they’d eaten together, takeout from the local diner that was imaginatively called ‘Mama’s’, not ‘Eats’, watched a little but that was it. His lack of idle chitchat was the complete opposite of Blue’s constant stream of chatter and after years of that, the silence was kinda disconcerting, but maybe not in a bad way.

Red didn’t even look up from his book, only pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter, “pick up some beer at the station, wouldja?”

“sure,” Stretch said, almost grateful for something else to do. It was miles better than sitting the rest of the day in his little room with its faded, floral wallpaper where the air conditioning wasn’t quite able to combat the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. He’d done that once, the first day, and after that made a point of staying out of his room until sundown to give it chance to cool off.

The town itself wasn’t much more than a bunch of ramshackle houses. To the west were fields, the leafy tops of what Stretch was now certain was corn rustling in the wind. Off to the east, the landscape slowly went from flat plains to trees, their wilting leaves yellowing in the heat and ending in a wooded area that surrounded maybe half the town. Shame it was too far away provide much shade unless you went walking right into it. Main street consisted of a few other public buildings; a tractor store right up next to the thrift shop, a little one-room schoolhouse with an attached shed that served as the town library, the Sheriff’s office, and the movie theater.

On the outskirts of town there was also a bar, The Whistling Cow, its glowing neon sign a single point of orange light on dark nights. As much as Stretch wanted a drink, he stuck with filching beer from the cooler Red kept under the counter. Hanging around with strange, drunk humans usually didn't end well for him.

The movie theater was where he’d taken to heading after work. Someone with a sense of humor must’ve named the place, since ‘The Grandeur’ literally only had one theater and maybe thirty seats, if that. The proprietor ran the ticket booth and the concession stand, and in his threadbare uniform with its yellowing shirt, he looked a lot like Lurch's second cousin, once removed.

But he was a nice enough fella and it was a good way to waste some time. Even if the only movies showing were old black and whites, the popcorn was fresh, with real butter, and the added bonus of air conditioning. Besides, the Three Stooges were funny as shit any old day.

That was where Stretch was headed today; the afternoon showing only cost two bucks, then another for popcorn and he was set for a few hours. It was better than trying to get anything to tune in on the television in his overboiled room. With a lot of coaxing, he might manage to get a PBS channel, but there was only so much time a person could spend sweating their way through a staticky version of Sesame Street.

Stretch got to his seat just as the lights were going down, settling in with his popcorn. Before the movie there were a few cartoons, and it was kinda wild to get to see Steamboat Willy chugging along on the big screen again.

Today’s flick was an honest to bitsy silent movie and Stretch watched with a wide grin as Charlie Chaplin slap-schticked his way across the stage. There were a few other people in the seats, at least one of them snoring; probably only came to get out of the summertime heat.

But it wasn’t really the movie he was here for. Not today.

He’d seen her the first time he came. Sitting in the far back row, not that uncommon, some people liked to sit far away. No one else seemed to notice her and that wasn’t strange either. Normally even he didn’t pay much attention to anyone else in the theater, who did? So long as a person was quiet, made no ripples in the pond, no one saw them. Movies were for escapism, not to make new friends.

But this lady. To begin with, her clothes were about a century out of date, with her pink suit and matching pillbox hat, her white gloves, and whenever the house lights came up while they switch the reel, she vanished without even a shimmer of dust motes, only returning once the darkness did.

He’d been back three times so far and she’d been in the theater for every showing. Sitting on her own watching the flick, always in the same seat. This time, Stretch was sitting in the seat next to it. He munched his buttery popcorn and watched as Charlie Chaplin-ed his way through the movie. He didn’t have to wait long.

None of the Humans noticed. The black-and-white light coming from the screen was dim enough that anyone sitting in the audience was nothing but a shadow. Humans tended towards the unobservant side, anyway, none of them had to be as aware of their surroundings as a Monster did, especially one like Stretch with only 5 HP between him and dust.

Besides, there wasn’t any fanfare about it. One minute the chair next to him was empty and the next, a young woman was sitting there, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she looked up at the movie with rapt attention.

“like the movies, huh?” Stretch said, very softly. “always wanted to be an actor myself, but i don’t have the guts for it.”

Waste of a good pun, he didn’t even think the woman had a chance to notice he was a skeleton. She startled, one faintly translucent hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Stretch only munched on another piece of popcorn and let her gather her wits or ectoplasm or whatever ghosts had. Wasn’t like he had room to talk, the inside of his skull was as hollow as a drunken apology.

She settled quick enough and asked in a wispy little voice, “you can see me?”

Stretch slouched back and propped his sneakers up on the seat in front of him. “sure. it’s a monster thing. we see things that humans don’t, sometimes.” Or didn’t bother to see, Stretch wasn’t sure which.

“Sometimes they see me,” she admitted. “but they always run away.”

Yeah, Stretch couldn’t really blame them for that one. Humans weren’t used to ghosts, not the way Monsters were, and now that he was sitting up close, he could see the way she flickered a little, that pretty face sometimes flashing onto something else, half still pretty as a picture from an old magazine and the other a bloody ruin. There was a gaping hole on one side of her head, her blonde hair matted into dark clumps, and one blue eye stared out, unseeing. There were flecks scattered on the shoulder of her pink suit, chips of ivory, and Stretch knew enough about bones to recognize skull fragments. Another flicker and it was gone, only a pretty young Human woman looking back at him. The effect was a little off-putting, true, but it wasn’t like she could help it.

Besides, Stretch didn’t have to look. He was watching the movie.

“what’s your name?” he asked, softly.

She hesitated and he wondered if she didn’t want to tell him or if she didn’t know. Her eyes were large, absurdly long lashes sweeping against her cheeks as she considered. When she spoke again her voice was a little stronger, surer, “Doris.”

“doris, my name is stretch,” he told her, “and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

They sat together in silence for a little while. The music coming brightly from the speakers was as cheerful as a carousel, offering happiness and humor when she spoke again abruptly. “I know this is very forward. But. Could you do something for me?”

“maybe,” Stretch said, a little wary. Better not to make promises to unknown ghosts, they could get tetchy.

She smiled, a wry curve of lips as if she could hear his thoughts. “Your popcorn.”

He looked down at the paper cup in his hand, still half-full of buttery kernels. “you want some?” he asked, bemused.

She let out a whispery laugh, like a wind rustling through summer cattails. “No, but. Can I smell it?”

Oh. “sure.” He held the cup out and she leaned over it, inhaling deeply, or, well, looked like she did, he didn’t think ghosts actually breathed, but who knew? When she bent down twin ribbons of blood ran from both her nostrils, dark and slick. It didn’t drip into the popcorn, couldn’t, it wasn’t present in the same way the little carton was, but he felt his appetite fade. He still politely pretended not to notice.

She leaned back with a happy sigh and all signs of the blood were gone. “Thank you. I go behind the counter sometimes to smell it, but it’s not the same.”

“i bet. gotta be in a paper bucket or it ain’t right.” If she could go out to the concession stand, that meant at least she wasn’t stuck sitting in this one seat. Maybe it was just her favorite. “you get out much?” He jerked his head towards the door, “outside, i mean.”

“No,” She shook her head sadly, and her hair brushed her shoulders. “I have to stay in the theater.”

He nodded sympathetically. That was gonna make this a little harder, but not too much. He liked the movies, anyway. “yeah, it works that way sometimes. but hey, i’ll stop back in and see you again. if that’s okay?”

She brightened visibly, coming sharply into focus like a lens turned on a camera, until the chair behind her only barely showing through. “Would you?”

Now that was a vow he could make and Stretch sketched a cross over his chest with a finger and said solemnly, “i promise.”

Their chat must’ve been getting a little loud. Someone was turning around in the front seats. The room was too dark to see, but he didn’t have to witness a glare to feel it. Stretch slouched down in his seat and took the hint.

Hey, he’d made a friend. Well, most of one and it was the important part. A soul without a body was a lot nicer than a body without a soul, hands down.

Which made him wonder about the gas station attendant, because Mitch made Red seem like a warm, outgoing person.

The ancient artwork on the front window of the gas station showed a shiny, smiling attendant in a tidy uniform, his neatly cut hair almost hidden beneath his cap as he held up a dripping gas nozzle in offering. That guy must’ve gotten promoted out of state, because the only dress code Mitch followed was ‘fuck it, looks clean.’ Long, straggly hair poked out from his dirty baseball cap and, of all things, he was reading the New York Times, the business section.

His saving grace was that his disinterest in all customers was universal. Mitch was an equal opportunity kind of guy; he didn’t give a shit about anyone.

Stretch opened the door carefully so that the cowbell only gave a muted clang. He hesitated inside the door and decided to brave a question. Hey, he’d made one friend today, may as well push his luck. “you got any coffee on?”

It was a pretty safe bet, even as hot as it was. Coffee wouldn’t help with the sweat that was already dampening his shirt from walking over from the theater, but Stretch felt a little unsteady from meeting Doris. He could use a dose of caffeine to shore him up.

Mitch didn’t look up from his paper, but he jerked his chin towards the back wall. “Yep, but the only coffee I got is hot. Ain’t no ‘spressos around here, Slick.”

“Hot is fine.” He didn’t bother correcting him on the name. Started with an S, close enough, they’d be best pals in no time. The carafe of coffee smelled surprisingly fresh, considering that Mitch looked like he’d been holding that chair down for a few hours. There was a plastic basket next to the carafe filled with little coffee mate creamer cups. He added four French vanilla, carrying his murky coffee up to the counter with Red’s six-pack. Beer was one thing they didn’t sell at the store, no alcohol at all, something to do with the liquor laws in this county and Red not paying those skinflint jackholes for a license, not on his ass, thanks much.

He paid for both, picked up his change from where Mitch tossed it unhelpfully on the counter and went outside, fumbling out his smokes on the way.

Stretch sat down on the crumbling curb, drinking his coffee and smoking, letting the caffeine and nicotine wash over him in a twin, soothing rush. He’d been trying to cut down with his funds being on the uncertain side, cigarettes were a pricy vice, and he couldn’t bum any from Red the way he did the beers.

The sun was still high overhead pouring down the heat, coming up off the pavement in shimmery waves. Sweat was rising up on his bones, his t-shirt clinging damply to his ribs and spine. Somewhere nearby, he could hear children playing, the hollow thud of a basketball and their laughter carrying on in the still air. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, no one’s expectations to live up to.

When his cigarette was done and pinched out, Stretch climbed back to his feet and headed for the grocery to drop off the beers before they got warm. Again, he went easy on the door, keeping the bell to a faint rattle rather than a clang. It was only when he turned around that he saw the front counter was empty, Red’s book bent open on the counter but no skeleton around to pick it back up.

He set the beers on the counter, calling, “red?”

No reply and that was strangely ominous in a little store where even a short skeleton would be hard pressed to hide.

There was a long hallway in the back that led past a couple storerooms to the apartment Red lived in. He gave the storerooms a glance, just in case Red had a sudden urge to restock the sanitary napkin display, and wasn’t very surprised to find them unoccupied. He saw the door to Red’s apartment was open a crack like it never was and that cranked ominous up to sinister. The lingering sweat on his bones was chilling in the air conditioning, but that wasn’t the only reason a sudden shiver rattled him.

“red?” Stretch called weakly as he pushed open the door.

The living room was small with a ratty plaid sofa and a coffee table littered with beer cans and balled up chip bags, and standing in the center of it was a person who was not Red, not unless he got one hell of a growth spurt while Stretch was gone.

Once, Stretch would’ve just taken a shortcut out, right the hell to the Sheriff station down the road and never had he missed the skill more than when the guy-who-was-definitely-not-Red started to turn around. The instinct to teleport was still there even if the ability wasn’t, fizzling out with an aching pain right in the middle of his chest.

It was only a minor distraction and Stretch blundered over to grab a lamp from a side table, yanking the cord right out of the wall as he brandished it over his head like a club, yelling shrilly, “what the fuck are you doing in here?”

The guy turned around, looking back at him with deep crimson eye lights that flicked briefly up to the lamp before meeting his wild gaze. His voice was as smooth and dark as deep water as he stated coolly, “I believe that’s my question.”

Stretch could stare and the only coherent thought amongst the many tangled ones scrambling through his mind was only two words. Simple. Descriptive.

Oh, shit.

-tbc-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #underswap sans #welcome to backwater

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ffxiv-ariavitali · 4 years

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micro story writing prompts #13: ‘too loud’ and #15: ‘trembling hands’

or personal writing prompt, ‘burning’ [inspired by Violet Evergarden]

AO3 ver.

The pumping within her veins was setting fire to her entire body. She felt the burns too keenly, both the ones that marred her body moons ago as well as the ones imprinted into her soul. It was too much, far too much, for a single individual to handle and yet the gods above decided that this was to be her fate.

Aria chuckled at the prospect of such, laughed at the idea that the cruel machinations of fate decided that she were to undergo a series of pain and torture. The voices of those that she has slain echoed from the deepest part of her heart, from the side of her that she - at first - wished never to see surface again.

The smiles of her friends, blood seeping from the corner of their lips. The anger of the fallen that she had slain as she did what she must.

The hopeful eyes of their loved ones, wondering when the victims would ever return.

It was loud, much too loud, within her head. The last wishes, the curses, the sight, sound and smell of death accompanying her blade. Each added to the throne of bones lying in her wake along a liquid red carpet of the blood offering they have given - whether they were aware of it or not.

How could she end this? How could she make this go away? When will the burning stop?

A cool breeze wrapped around her in a protective bubble, soothing the self-inflicted, imaginary pain as if it was there. The Hyuran woman peered up, without full awareness her cheeks were stricken with tears, and saw the ghost of two figures at her side.

Of the two figures she created, made manifest of her heart.

Fray encircled his arms from behind her, his hands resting atop of hers from where she gripped the handle of her claymore. The trembling she wasn’t aware existed dissipated upon realization, upon the comfort of a kindred spirit that she had forgotten was always looking out for her.

“‘Tis alright,” he said, a rough voice echoing in her mind in a gentle whisper. “Just a little longer. We are with you.”*

Myste, as small as he was, stood in front of Aria with arms outstretched, as if using himself as a shield to protect her. The same protective bubble she had initially felt glowed softly in patterns akin to the starry skies of the heavens above. The light in the dark, the beacons of hope in the blackest night.

“You remember, don’t you?” he asked of her, peering over his shoulder to present her with a kind smile. “Think of us in your darkest hour. We love you. Forever will we love you.”

Tears further spilled from the woman’s amethyst eyes and she felt her body ready to rack with sobs.

Nonetheless, this wasn’t the time. The threat of war loomed before her, here on the front lines of Ghimlyt Dark, and her fellow Scions were left behind, caught unconscious by whatever affliction has banished them to a land of dreams - if that’s what’s even keeping them from returning.

A magitek colossus appeared before the woman and swiped her aside, sending her flying back half a dozen yalms. While the pain was minimized thanks to the blessings given to her by those she holds dear to her heart, it didn’t stop her from coughing up splotches of blood onto the ground.

In the distance, there was a cry, one from a voice she had grown accustomed to hearing in a land of ice and snow. Simply hearing it growing closer and closer fueled the fire within, reignited by the reminder given to her by the deepest part of her soul.

“Aria!” the lord commander shouts. “Aria, are you alright-!”

Before she answered, the Hyuran woman turned with her claymore gripped tightly in her hands and Plunged towards the colossus that had knocked her away. Rejuvenated with energy and using the pain mitigated from her by the memories of those deep within, Aria positioned her body to take down the magitek armory with a Bloodspiller, finishing it off with an Edge of Darkness for good measure. The moment that it crashed to the ground was the moment that Aymeric had finally reached the woman’s side.

“By the Fury!” he exclaimed, his ice blue eyes wild with worry. “Fall back, we will hold the line.”

Aria’s lips curl to a grin — up to the challenge and not without a tinge of madness as one of greatness is wont to have.

“Nay, Aym, I would fight for a bit longer,” she answered in kind.

Aymeric’s eyes widened. “But, Ia, you are injured!”

“And I would fain accept a chirurgeon’s ministrations after this last push!” she responded. The Warrior of Light then turned towards the advancing battalion led by the lord commander, recognizing symbols marking different houses of the Pillars — including her own.

(Truly, the use of a crimson lily outlined in gold by House Lukos could not have been any more ironic for her. A Warrior that has seen and shed rivers of blood borne into a house specializing in conjury and the healing trade, representing the purity and sanctity one's faith in blessed Halone should have, was enough to make the woman feel as if she deserved not her birthright.

Moreover, their blatant renouncement of her father, a lowborn with an unknown name nor a family of his own, was enough to anger her so much that she refused in-depth dealings with them, leaving it to her elder brother.

Not that he would have it any other way, for Stryder would not suffer to have his little sister take on more burdens than she already bears. This is in despite of the fact that his sister’s innate talent for the arcane was not unlike the scion of Lukos, their late mother, which made her the ideal heiress to the name in comparison to her fool of a brother that couldn’t weave aether to save his life.)

At this, the soldiers saw her eyes sparkle — as a stout leader in her own right encouraging them with utmost effectiveness — and felt courage welling within their breast.

“One last push, fighters of freedom and justice!” she rallied, raising her claymore towards the Garlean line before her. “Remember Carteneau! Remember Rhalgr’s Reach and Doma Castle! Remember the pain you have suffered and allow it to be your strength for this assault! I yet stand with you and I will not suffer to have them take what we have reclaimed!”

The soldiers released a roaring battle cry before marching forward, the effect of the Warrior’s words giving them the courage needed to continue on this path. Before she could rejoin the main host, she sensed Aymeric’s watching eyes and he continued watching her worriedly. Overshadowing it, however, was a hint of admiration and a single question slipped his lips — one she has been asked many times before.

“All the pain that you have experienced… how is it that you are still able to stand, unbreaking?”

Aria stared at him for a moment before a helpless smile passed her lips.

“Among the greatest forces on this star, man is wont to fall to fear quite easily. It can act as a cold mistress in the abyss, seeking to freeze you whole before engulfing your very core. Yet, as Haurchefant once told us, is there not a fire hot enough to reforge the broken blades within our hearts? For where there is fear, there is cowardice. Despite this, there is in equal parts courage, Aymeric. The courage to take from this abyss the strength we need to push onward and the wisdom to know that taking more will lead us to oblivion.”

Aria’s gaze darted to the sky, her expression growing forlorn. When she had her fill, she turned to Aymeric once more.

“I believe in our people, Aymeric. As you have always done and as I know you ever will. Have faith and it will carry you farther than you think.”

Before Aria could say a word more or Aymeric could respond in kind, a voice called out to the Warrior of Light — the one belonging to her attendant, Echoes, who was part of her squadron sent to spearhead through enemy lines as an irregular unit.

They nodded towards each other and as she was about to depart, Aria raised an arm and stretched it towards her love. Soon, he was surrounded by an aetherial shield that moved as he did, surrounding him in a blanket of stars and encompassing him in a certain kind of warmth that he feels when it comes to her.

“Have care, Aym,” she urged of him. “And no noble sacrifices — I would like to meet our children, after all.”

With a wink, Aria turned her back on the lord commander and sprinted off, leaving behind a blushing lord commander before the first commander reached him.

“My lord?” Lucia called, baffled he was left on his lonesome on the battlefield.

Aymeric smiled and shook his head. “‘Tis of no issue, Lucia. I must work twice as hard now.”

Though Lucia was confused, she didn’t question her lord and followed his lead. In the meanwhile, he felt the aether sifting around him like a warm hug by a hearth on a cold winter’s night. It was just like Aria to give him a boon, unbeknownst to the others so as to not mark indications of ‘favoritism’. It was just like her…

...this method of saying ‘I love you’ without saying the words outright.

---

notes:

*inspired by this comic

#ffxiv fanfiction #aymeric de borel #lucia goe junius #aria vitali writes #more of a vent than anything #thanks for bearing with me

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shigetsugu · 7 years

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hi i'm just curious! what flaws do you think kojuro has? i'm doing his ms noww but as far as i can tell his only flaw is being bad at cleaning ): but he's so attractive lmaooo i can't decide whether i like him or not

Hi there, anon! Glad you are doing his Main Story, even though I’m certainly biased, Kojuro’s is one of my favorite and one of the reason why I fell for him! Anyway, it is quite a tough question, isn’t it? I mean, he is seen as a flawless person much by players but also by in-game characters, so, does Kojuro have any flaw? Yes, of course he does, and I’m not just talking about his bad cleaning behavior either. I played all Kojuro’s events so far so I think I do know enough about the man but maybe I’ll miss some informations and I know there are new stuff that got introduced in KoiRan. I’ll try to explain everything the best I can, it’s certainly a bit longer than I intended to write first but I thought that context is always an important part on how I see things. I might have forgotten some informations and apologize in advance if so but I think it should show pretty much that Kojuro has flaws, like anyone else.

To begin with, Kojuro is one of the “oldest” main love interest in the game and he’s written to be seen as the wise older man type. It’s true at first that Kojuro gives off the vibes that he is perfect because that’s how he wants to be seen. I mean, he is thoughtful, loyal and caring, it’s true but he says so himself: it’s a facade he build up. In reality, he is more than the man you see at work, serious and hardworking and he worked himself hard to be the one called the “Dragon’s Claw”. This was explained (in Passionate Devotion event) that when he started working for the Date clan as a teenager, all the other retainers weren’t taking him seriously because of his age and appearance (remember everyone say that Kojuro looks younger than he is supposed to be and so started wearing his hair up) but also because of his background (he isn’t from a samurai family; he comes from a family of priests).

It has been mentioned as well but Kojuro wasn’t the man we know today when he was still a young adult; Shigezane and Masamune said that he was hardly holding himself back and was able to throw savage tantrum and he could be even more terrifying since he is the kind to dig in and find some juicy stuff to get back at you and literally destroy you. (Mentionned and proved in Our Sultry Night of Passion event and also shown in Noble Heart Exposed event). Kita even said once that Kojuro was a “rebel” and didn’t actually wanted to work for the Date clan (and Kojuro low key confirmed it actually happened).

Kojuro explained himself that he basically compartmentalizing with his private and public persona. I don’t know if we can say that he is really a lazy person, or depends on what I suppose, but it’s certain that he sucks at tidying up his room, he tends to buy more than one copy of a book, barely fold his own clothes, is really clumsy when it comes to cooking (he even asked for Shigezane to bring him so food once since he was too lazy to even try) and don’t bother to eat sometimes because of that or he isn’t a morning person and can sleep in his study without sleeping in his bedding… He is actually ashamed of these (which he label them as things that aren’t his “strong points”) but can’t help himself; it’s part of him whatever happens, even though he tries his best to change.

It’s interesting as well because in the AU events in KoiRan where Kojuro is there being younger, Kojuro was really the kind not to care much for people, giving him the attitude of a very detached and not very altruistic person. (I can’t give much examples but if I’m not saying something wrong, in one event, Kojuro was asked by Shigetsugu to help the MC find where she was supposed to be working at the new place she was assigned in the city but he didn’t even bothered to do it correctly.)

I’m going to talk about how he behave with his closest relationships because it’s really interesting. When he started serving Masamune, it was “Kojuro’s mistake” that Masamune’s eyesight got worse (it is still unconfirmed but that’s what Kojuro believes) because he failed to found out about the poisoned manju (as told in Claim Me at Last event). Although at first it says that it’s because of this guilt that Kojuro became even more loyal to Masamune (and thus making sure he wouldn’t allow himself to make anymore grave mistake), but Kojuro explains that it isn’t really why it made him even more protective of Masamune (I’m sure it was during one of Masamune’s event but I can’t remember which one but I don’t remember his exact reason, I’m sorry). Kojuro, as much as he loves Masamune, still puts a barrier between the two of them and don’t even dare to call him a friend (I wonder if it was during Masamune’s Unspoken Ties event but I don’t have it so I can’t be sure) which bother Masamune a lot since not only he sees him as his most loyal retainer, but also a dear friend and big brother figure. Kojuro has always put some distance with his peers even though he is very friendly and easy to talk to and I’m going to explain why I think he does that now.

We hardly talk about it but it’s important to remember that Kojuro, even though got taken care of by Kita and he himself says that he sees her as a motherly figure, still lost his parents at a young age and even waited for them to return (it’s never been mentionned how they died though). It’s implied that he missed some of this parental love and he wishes for his children not to know the same fate as he had with his own. He had actually a difficulut childhood (mentionned in the special ending of his second Main Story in KoiRan) and felt very lonely, I believe he lacked love for a long time so that’s why I’m going to talk about the way he was behaving with his preivous romatic relationships now.

Kojuro said that he had numerous lovers before the MC (The Bonds of Love Kojuro’s epilogue and Blossoming Lies events) but he never really fell in love with them. I believe that, since Kojuro always had a hole in his heart, he tried to fill this gap but never found someone to fit there (until the MC came in his life of course, he changed a lot after realizing his genuine love for her). He was going out with them for a while until they broke up (it’s not really told but it’s implied that he is the one who decided to) and I believe it was only because he never truly loved them and just wanted to feel some kind of strong affection even though it wasn’t shared (and certainly because he just wanted to relieved himself of his own earthly desire as he said so himself).

The latest event shows another side of him I would love to talk about because it could be confirming even more about the fact that Kojuro might have some kind of trust issues. Kojuro always took upon himself to serve not only Masamune personally but the Date clan and Oshu itself and thus, taking care for the problems was a normal thing to do. So when he realized that some of his retainers had difficulties to solve some problems in Shiroishi, he wanted to care of them himself like he always did. I think that the reason that it’s difficult Kojuro to let people do their job is only because he was in this position before and is probably to used to solve them but also because he has perfectionist tendencies. But not only this, it’s been shown that Kojuro can very stubborn, like REALLY when he wants to but can also thing that bothering for himself. We’re all used to have a Kojuro being able to commune his thoughts and feeling pretty easily and yet, sometimes he keeps stuff for himself even thought he knows he should be talking about them for different reasons and been mostly seen again in his second Main Story in KoiRan. It can be even more frustrating coming from someone you know that can, and more importantly want to make sure he is listened and understood.

All of these might not really be seen as evident flaws like it’d be with Saizo’s uncommunicativeness or Ieyasu’s trust issues but they really are stuff that are overlooked and overshadowed by his qualities and it’s actually normal. It doesn’t make him any less human; Kojuro is just working his butt to better himself in the eyes of other but more importantly in his own. He is just a perfecionnist and really don’t like to be seen as someone who can’t control his own emotions (he said a couple times that he always make sure to control his anger or even his lust, for example) and trust me, that’s the behavior of someone who don’t allow themselves to make any mistake or accepting failure and are even harder on themseleves than on others (such as the exemple of his lastest event, Diary of a Samurai Wife); he wants everything to be done nicely and quickly and so want to do it himself but realize that it was wrong to do this in the end.

#anonymous #ask #samurai love ballad party #slbp #i would like to apologize for my english too alkjfdkld #i'm actually dead after writing all of this #i hope i was able to explain things correctly...#slbp kojuro

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